
PS 3529 
.N47 B4 
1899 

I Copy 1 



m^ 



nymnn- 






LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

Chap. Copyright No. 

^?J 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



mi S :S'^9 



Between Whiles 



A COLLECTION 
...OK VKRSKS. .. 



BY 



/ 



ARTHUR BARRY O'NEILL, C.S.C 




AKRON. O. 
CHICAGO NEW YORK 

D. H. MCBRIDE & COMPANY 



29378 



Copyright 1899 

BY 

D. H. McBRIDE & COMPANY 



APn a - lijgg 










Nunquam sis ex toto otiosus; sed aut legens aut scribens. 

THOMAS A KEMPIS. 



Be never wholly idle, 

Than which there's nothing worse; 
But read some goodly volume, 

Or even — scribble verse. 



CONTENTS 



MARIAN SONGS AND SONNETS 



PAGE 

My Queen 1 1 

A Madonna 12 

A Paraphrase 13 

Queen of the May 14 

The Memorare 15 

Queen of the World 16 

To a Child of Mary 17 

To the Immaculate 18 

At Lourdes 19 

In May 20 

Madonna Mia 21 

To THE Virgin-Mother of Sorrows 22 

The Magnificat 24 

Salve Regina 25 

Bernard's Prayer 26 

A May-Shrine 27 

Our Lady's Favorites 28 

In Affliction 29 

The Colors of Carmei 30 

The Maytime 31 

« ToTA Pulchra Es » 32 

The Treasure of the Autumntide 33 

An Invocation 34 

An Angel's Part 35 

In Ransom 36 

Inadequate 37 

(v) 



Vi CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Our Lady's Miracles 38 

To Our Lady of Light 39 

Stabat Mater Speciosa 40 

To Our Lady in November 46 

The Litany of Our Lady 47 

Ave Maria 50 

« Spes Nostra » 51 

On Our Lady's Visitation 52 

A Thought on the Presentation 53 

The Rose-Garden 54 

The First Witness 55 

Our Lady's Month 56 

The Lmmaculate 57 

In Mid- Atlantic 58 

A Treasure Gained 59 

AssuMPTA Est 60 



OTHER DEVOTIONAL VERSES 

A Refuge Blest 63 

An Autumn Aspiration 64 

Peace 65 

Echoes in Autumntide 67 

Exiles 68 

The Fourth Station 70 

A Thought for Christmas 72 

Life's Passion 72 

Sacerdos Alter Christus 73 

An Envied Lot 74 

When Eva Died 75 

« Veni, Sequere Me » 76 

Strife or Rest ? 77 

Purity of Intention 79 

« MisEREMiNi Mei » 79 

The First Christmas 81 

A Trusty Pilot 83 

On a Feast-Day 84 

Premonitions 86 



CONTENTS vil 

PAGE 

A Snowfall on All Souls' 88 

A Client of the Rosary 90 

Love in Disguise 92 

Roses and Thorns 93 

A Year Ago 94 

Two Stars 95 

A Friend the Less 9^ 

The De Profundis 98 

Where We Laid Him 99 

Mav They Rest in Peace loi 

Death's Advent 102 

The Mother of Mercy 103 

The Dead Hand of Foligno 105 

Love's Touchstone 106 

November Feasts 107 

To Sisters in Religion 108 

Repentance i09 

An Anniversary no 

Human Respect m 

Queen and Nun 112 

The Way of the Cross "3 

To Friends "4 

In Thanksgiving iiS 



IN VARIOUS KEYS 

The New Year's Guerdon 119 

A Thought 120 

To an Absent Friend 121 

Life's Golden Bowl 122 

Generosity 123 

Deceitful Calms 124 

Giants 125 

Memory 126 

At a Grave in Winter 127 

The Vacant Chair 128 

To Agnes on Her Birthday 129 

Life's Heroes 130 



VlU CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A Birthday Greeting 132 

The Holy Innocents 133 

Musings 134 

The Death of a Religious 135 

Ideals of Youth 137 

Boy and Man 141 

To M. B. F 142 

Dreaming 143 

Beneath the Rose 145 

Day by Day 145 

« Will You be My Friend ? » 146 

Echoes of Twilight '. . 150 

Some Day 151 

In a YouNa Lady's Album 152 

A Changeless Law 152 

My Letter 153 

At Close of Day 154 

In Summer-tide 156 

Love of Mother 157 

On a Priest's Golden Jubilee 158 

Stemming the Current 159 

John Boyle O'Reilly 160 

A Reward 161 

The Price of Fame 162 

Unshaken Trust 163 

The Planting of the Cross 164 

Envy 165 

The Duty of Praise 166 

Steadfastness 167 

An Unchanging Problem 168 

Hope 169 

Judge Not 170 

Enduring Fame 171 

The Legend of Brother Eugene 172 

In Other Days and Now 180 



MARIAN SONGS AND SONNETS 



(«) 



MY QUEEN 



VICTORS in tourney for love and duty, 
Chivalrous knights in their golden prime 
Knelt at the throne of the Queen of Beauty, 

Ages agone, in the olden time. 
Kneeling they proffered, and deemed it honor, 

Guerdons of valor, the tourney's prize ; 
More than repaid just to gaze upon her, 
Reading their bliss in her lovelit eyes. 

Lances no longer we tilt for glory, 

Gone is the pomp of the tourney now ; 
Still, like the knights of the olden story. 

Lovers the queens of their hearts avow. 
Peerless is mine : with her grace none other 

E'er may compete, here below or above, — 
Queen all unrivaled, O Mary Mother, 

Grant for my guerdon one smile of love. 



(II) 



12 BETWEEN WHILES 



A MADONNA 



JUST where the silvery moonbeams fall, 
Above the desk, on my study wall 
There gleams a visage more sweet than all 

I have fancied of nymph or fairy ; 
E'en when the shadows enfold the room, 
I see it still through the shrouding gloom — 
No night so dark as to hide the bloom 
Of that pictured face of Mary. 

Madonna fair of an artist's dream, 

To me as to him dost thou living seem ; 

Full oft from thine eyes benedictions gleam 

That incite me to fresh endeavor. 
O Mother mine, may the tender grace 
That hath won my love for thy pictured face, 
Still guard my heart from affections base 

Till I gaze on thyself forever. 



BETWEEN WHILES 13 



A PARAPHRASE 



WHO Cometh forth as the morning rising, 
Fair as the moon, bright as the sun? 
Ah, who but that gem of our God's devising, 
Of all earth's daughters the spotless one. 

Lily she, midst the thorns of ages, 

Peerless in bloom and for aye to reign, 

Sung of old by the Prince of Sages : 

**Thou art all fair, — in thee no stain." 

Let whosoe'er her grandeur measures, 

Heed well the words from on high that fall : 

" Full many daughters have gathered treasures. 
Thou, my love, hast surpassed them all." 



14 BETWEEN WHILES 



QUEEN OF THE MAY 



HARK to the hymns that are heavenward swell- 
ing 
Morning and eve all around the wide world, 
See from each shrine, blossom-decked for her 
dwelling. 
Incense-clouds floating like banners unfurled. 
Fragrance and song to her 
Bring all who throng to her, 
Children of Mary, their homage to pay, 
While from each heart to her. 
Love-arrows dart to her, 
Peerlessly beautiful Queen of the May. 

Virginal Queen, with their myriad voices. 

Earth, sea, and sky swell the chorus of men ; 
All thy Son's universe blithely rejoices, 

Welcoming fondly thine own month again, — 
Month the most dear to us. 
Fullest of cheer to us, 
Blest by thy graces illuming our way : 
Mother, above to thee 
Send we our love to thee ; 
Deign to accept it, sweet Queen of the May. 



BETWEEN WHILES 



THE MEMORARE 



NOT for his age alone was Bernard speaking, 
O Virgin Mother, 'mongst all women blest, 
When thy assistance in his sore need seeking, 
The Memorare voiced his soul's request. 

He echoed but a prayer that long resounded 
In fainting hearts o'er all the woful earth, 

The cry for help of those whom sin hath wounded 
In every age since Christ the Savior's birth. 

The echoes of an echo, we repeat it 

With all of Bernard's confidence and love; 

And now as ever dost thou kindly greet it, 
And grant it. Mother, in thy home above. 



1 6 BETWEEN WHILES 



QUEEN OF THE WORLD 



SUNBEAMS o'er woodland and dell are dancing, 
Starry-eyed blossoms from meads are 
glancing, 
Full-throated songsters their notes entrancing 

Carol the livelong day ; 
Whisper the breezes of new-born pleasures, 
Murmur the streamlets in blithest measures, — 
Nature hath lavished her choicest treasures, 
Greeting the Queen of the May. 

Fairest of sovereigns sung in story. 
Peerless in mercy and power and glory, 
Promised to earth from the ages hoary, 

Destined to reign for aye ; 
Mary, our Mother, from Heaven's splendor 
Beams on us all with a love-glance tender, — 
Who but shall hail and at need defend her. 

Queen of the world and of May. 



BETWEEN WHILES I7 



TO A CHILD OF MARY 



WHAT though the shadows crowd thick and 
fast 
On the road thou fain wouldst follow? 
What though the storm-wind's furious blast 

Sweeps fiercely o'er hill and hollow ? 
Be faith and hopeful courage thine, 

Nor let thy purpose vary : 
Through gloom and tempest the stars still shine 
For the fervent child of Mary. 

The shadows that gather the long night through 

Are scattered when dawns the morning, 
The tempest sweeps by, and the heavens blue 

Are aglow with the sun's adorning. 
Though lowering doubts obscure thy way. 

Fear not that woe shall betide thee : 
In darkest gloom as in lightsome day. 

Thy Mother blest will guide thee. 



18 BETWEEN WHILES 



TO THE IMMACULATE 



STAR of the Morning, whose splendor illumined 
Shadows that dark o'er the primal world 
lay, 
Still doth thy glory redeem the sad story 
Angels record of mankind day by day; 
Still art thou shining bright, 
Piercing the mists of night, 
Steadfastly gleaming o'er life's troubled sea; 
Gladly we hail thy ray, 
Hopeful the while we pray, 
"Virgin Immaculate, guide us to thee." 

Lily of Israel ! Nature's ideal, 
Type the most perfect of woman most fair. 
Poets have hymned thee and painters have limned 

thee, 
Art knows no beauty with thine to compare. 

Lily all free from stain. 

Soul in whom Grace's reign 
Ne'er was disturbed by the shadow of sin ; 

Virgin Immaculate, 

Teach us like thee to bate 
Aught save the glory that lies all within. 



BETWEEN WHILES 



AT LOURDES 



BEFORE thy shrine I knelt, O gracious Mother, — 
Thy far-famed shrine amid the Pyrenees, — 
And vainly sought the rising sobs to smother, 

The while I murmured low my fervid pleas. 
The Gave's swift waters ceased their noisy brawling, 

Soft breezes crooned a melody divine, 
One almost heard the benedictions falling 

With ceaseless rustling there before thy shrine. 

Before thy shrine where myriad tapers gleaming 

Around thy statue shone as mimic suns, 
I knelt and gazed upon thy features beaming 

With sweet compassion on earth's stricken ones. 
The blind, the halt, the palsied there were kneeling, 

All confident that thou wouldst ne'er decline 
To grant their prayers, their sore afflictions healing, 

As others thou hast healed before thy shrine. 

Before thy shrine, O tender-hearted Virgin, 

The soul's perceptions take a wider scope ; 
There, all the heart's emotions blend and merge in 

One fervent act of mingled love and hope. 
There, earth becomes as nowhere else the portal, 

The very threshold of thy Home divine; 
And earth's poor children taste of bliss immortal, 

The while they weeping kneel before thy shrine. 



20 BETWEEN WHILES 



IN MAY 



IN ARBORS airy to Mother Mary 
The sweet birds vary their songs of praise ; 
Though skies be dreary they never weary, 

But bright and cheery their carols raise. 
Her feasts of sorrow they know, and borrow 

Sad notes the morrow will change to gay, 
And earth rojoices to hear their voices 

With raptures greeting the Queen of May. 

O Mother tender, our blest defender 

We too would render thee homage meet: 
The birds' excelling beyond all telling, 

Our praise goes welling e'en to thy feet. 
No words can measure the peace and pleasure 

Our souls now treasure from day to day. 
Nor sweetest story express the glory 

We give thee, Mary, thou Queen of May. 



BETWEEN WHILES 21 



MADONNA MIA 



w 



EAK though my praise of thee, 
Feeble my lays of thee, 
Tender Madonna whose mercies I sing, 
Favors besought of thee 
Render the thought of thee 
Sweet as the rose-blooms that perfume the sprinj 

Mother, in dreams of thee 

Come there faint gleams of thee, 
Lustrous in beauty and lovely as light : 

Never did fairies' land 

Match with the Mary's land 
Where roams my soul in the watches of night. 

Mother, whose prayers for me 

Lighten life's cares for me, 
Still flood my soul with the sunshine of peace ; 

And as no other love 

Equals thy mother-love, 
Ne'er shall my praise of thee suffer surcease. 



22 BETWEEN WHILES 



TO THE VIRGIN-MOTHER OF 
SORROWS* 



SWEET spirit of Poesy, mystical maiden, 
Thou solace and joy of my lengthening years. 
To Mary, my Mother, with sorrow o'erladen, 

Bear swiftly this tribute of love and of tears. 

Though feeble the note of her age -stricken servant, 
'Twill not shame thee his song-gift to lay at 
her shrine ; 

And she who ne'er frowns on petitioners fervent, 
Will grant to the singer forgiveness benign. 

Near that shrine of my Mother, O would I were 
kneeling, 

To lull and to lessen her sevenfold pain ; 
By sighs and by tears my compassion revealing. 

Her robe the while kissing again and again. 

Her name I first lisped when in life's sunny morning 
I gazed with delight on her fair sculptured face, 

And, won by the sweetness her visage adorning, 
Pressed my young lips to hers in caressing em- 
brace. 



* From the I,atin of Rev. J. A. Alizeri, C. M. 



BETWEEN WHILES 23 

How blissful my heart in that springtime of glad- 
ness, 
When Heaven's bright Queen was its first, only 
love ! 
Now, freighted with sin and o'erburdened with sad- 
ness. 
It scarcely dares look to her fair throne above. 

So, spirit of Song, in my stead, go deliver 
My gift to the Mother whose dolors I rue; 

But should she inquire the name of the giver, 
Conceal it: 'twould only her sorrow renew. 

Yet say that my heart its affection discloses 
By culling each day in the garden of prayer 

Choice blossoms to weave a coronal of roses, 
Fit wreath for the brow of the Virgin all fair. 

Ah, surely my Queen, not less gracious than holy, 
Prompt pardon will grant me, and banish my 
fears ; 
Sweet mercy she'll show to her suppliant lowly, 
And perchance stem the tide of his heart-riven 
tears. 



24 BETWEEN WHILES 



THE MAGNIFICAT 



M 



Y GRATEFUL soul doth magnify the Lord, 
In God my Savior hath my spirit joyed, 



Because His humble handmaid, all devoid 
Of worth, He deigns to favor and reward : 
For lo ! He wills that all who Him adore 
Shall henceforth call me blessed evermore. 

For He that mighty is, great things hath done 
To me, His servant: holy is His name. 
From age to age His mercy shall they claim 

Who fear Him, the supreme eternal One : 

His arm a power exceeding great hath showed, 
Dispersed He those whose hearts gave pride 
abode. 

He hath put down the mighty from their seat; 
To raise instead the humble hath He willed : 
The hungered ones with good things He hath 
filled. 

And, empty-handed, bid the rich retreat. 
All mindful of His mercy inconceived, 
His servant Israel He hath received : 

As spake He to our fathers in their day. 

To Abraham and all his seed for aye. 



BETWEEN WHILES 25 



SALVE REGINA 



HAIL, O thou holiest Queen of creation, 
Mother of mercy, life's comfort and hope, 
List to our pleading for grace and salvation, 
Children of Eve who in exile still grope. 
Trust we our souls to thy merciful keeping, 

Thee do we supplicate, owning our fears, 
Sighing for succor the while we are weeping, 
Mourning our woes in this valley of tears. 

Come, then, our advocate kind and forbearing, 

Turn on us wistful thy pitying eyes, 
Potent thy glance to console the despairing, 

Soothing our sorrows and stilling our sighs, 
Grant that our love for thee never may vary, 

And, when dispelled is our banishment's 
gloom. 
Merciful, gracious, and sweet Virgin Mary, 

Show to us Jesus, blest fruit of thy womb. 



26 BETWEEN WHILES 



BERNARD'S PRAYER 



REMEMBER, Mary, Virgin tender-hearted, 
How from of old the ear hath never heard 
That he who to thine arms for refuge darted, 

Implored thy help with many an earnest word, 
Besought thy prayers and on thy interceding 
With loving confidence and trust relied, — 
Did ever futile find his fervent pleading, 
Or see thy grace and favor e'er denied. 

O Virgin-Mother, 'mongst all mothers tender, 

With equal confidence to thee I fly. 
To thee I come as to a sure defender, 

A weeping sinner, unto thee I cry. 
Sweet Mother of the Word Incarnate, hear me — 

May e'en my halting words efficient prove — 
Cast not away my prayer, but deign to cheer me, 

And let my sore distress thy pity move. 



BETWEEN WHILES 27 



A MAY-SHRINE 



As HARBOR lights on darksome nights 
Gleam lustrous through the ocean's gloom- 
ing, 
In many a row the tapers glow, 

Our Lady's altar soft illuming. 
Shy blossoms fair are clustered there, 
The perfumes of the May exhaling, 
And quaint wreaths twine about the shrine 
Where fragrant incense-clouds are traihng. 

O Mother sweet, still at thy feet 

My harbor let me find forever, 
That haven blest my constant quest. 

To reach it, all my life's endeavor ; 
And heart of mine, be thou a shrine 

Where all fair blooms disclose their beauty, 
Where vows and sighs like incense rise. 

And grateful love is one with duty. 



28 BETWEEN WHILES 



OUR LADY'S FAVORITES 



THEY know thee but in part, sweet Mother 
Mary, 
Whose hVes untroubled flow adown the years, 
Whose placid currents storm-winds never vary, 
Nor cloud-bursts quicken with a flood of tears. 

They know thee but in part, O gracious Virgin, 

Who have not sunk beneath the weight of care, 
Nor seen hope's glowing sunshine fade and merge 
in 
The cheerless gloom of life's dread night, de- 
spair. 

Not joy the tutor, Martyr-Queen of sorrows, 
That aids us best to see thee as thou art; 

'Tis grief, the semblance of thine own that borrows. 
Gains clearest vision of thy loving heart. 

We know thee best, and love thee most, dear 
Mother, 
Whose anguished souls, in thy compassion 
sweet, 
Thou oft hast guided to our Elder Brother, 
To leave us, solaced, at His blessed feet. 



BETWEEN WHILES 29 



IN AFFLICTION 



Up FROM a heart oppressed with pain, 
On whose riven wreck the bitter rain 
Of remorseful tears doth fall in vain, 

Comes a cry no grief can smother; 
The world is deaf to my soul's lament, 
My friends proclaim their compassion spent, 
But thou, to whom my appeal is sent, 
McniorarCy O gracious Mother. 

Remember thy child, though fallen low, 
Sustain, while he drinks his cup of woe, 
And aid him so firm of will to grow 

That he ne'er need drink such another ", 
In sore distress he beseeches thee 
For the grace and strength all sin to flee ; 
Ah, Refuge of Sinners, pray for me, 

Memorare, O gracious Mother. 



30 BETWEEN WHILES 



THE COLORS OF CARMEL 



COURSING to battle with armor gleaming, 
Heroes of chivalry long ago 
Caught from their lady-loves' colors, streaming 

Bright from their lances, a martial glow ; 
Potent incentive to knightly valor, 

Fair shone those colors mid darkest strife, 
Robbing e'en Death of his spectral pallor, 
Flooding the victors with fuller life. 

Lady of Carmel, a brighter glory 

Gleams from the colors thy true knights wear, 
Prompts them to prowess untold in story. 

Nerves them the battle's reverse to bear. 
Scapular Brown, o'er my heart reposing. 

Badge during life of my faith and love, 
Dark when around me death's gloom is closing, 

Light me to Mary, my Queen above. 



BETWEEN WHILES 31 



THE MAYTIME 



J 



OYOUS Maytime, 
Nature's playtime, 
Free from faintest tinge of sorrow, 
Mirth and pleasure 
Fill thy measure, 
Grief therein no place may borrow. 

Skies all tearless, 

Sunshine peerless, 
Breezes crooning wooing burdens, 

Green-robed bowers, 

Birds and flowers, — 
These to men thy welcome guerdons. 

So, with reason, 

Fairest season, 
Mary's month we call thee ever ; 

In thy graces 

Finding traces 
Of her beauty, cloying never. 



32 BETWEEN WHILES 

"TOTA PULCHRA ES " 



THOU art all fair, O Mother blest, 
In thee is found no stain ; 
Thou'rt purer far than whitest crest 
That decks the troubled main. 

Thy soul no taint did ever bear 

Of imperfection's shade ; 
And Satan never counted there 

The blots his wiles had made. 

First creature formed since Adam's fall 
Who shared not Adam's sin, 

Thy hfe was spent that mortals all 
Celestial life might win. 

Glad sight to Heaven's highest court, 
To view their peerless Queen ; 

And feeble man's most firm support 
In that fair maid is seen. 

O thou, fond Mother, guard me well, 

I trust my soul to thee ; 
Defeat the serried ranks of hell, 

Safe guide me o'er hfe's sea. 

And when, all spent my mortal days, 

I kiss Death's fatal rod. 
Be "Tota pulchra es" the phrase 

My soul shall hear from God. 



BETWEEN WHILES 33 



THE TREASURE OF THE AUTUMNTIDE 



MONTH of the maple-leaf's changing hue, 
Of the hoar-frost gleaming where late 
the dew 
Shone bright 'neath a firmament deeply blue, 

'Neath a sky now gray and sober ; 
Month of the meadows all bare and brown, 
Of the clover and aftermath stricken down, 
Though thy smile be sterner than August's frown, 
We welcome thee still, October ! 

Month of our chaplets entwined each day, 
Rich wreaths of bloom at her feet to lay 
Whose love o'er our hearts holds sovereign sway, 

Whose largess exceeds all measure, — 
Swiftly our welcome goes out to thee, 
Hail we thine advent full joyously. 
Fair month of the Holy Rosary, 

The autumntide's richest treasure ! 

3 



34 BETWEEN WHILES 

AN INVOCATION 



V 



IRGIN SO pure and bright, 
Robed in celestial light, 
Blest be thy name in this desert below. 
Guardian of trusting souls, 
Who e'er like thee condoles 
Hearts that are bursting with sorrow and woe ? 

Mother whom Jesus gave, 

Fondly thine aid we crave ; 
Help thy weak children obtain their reward. 

Queen of fair purity, 

Aid us like thee to flee 
Aught that displeases thy Son and thy Lord. 

Star of the Morning, fair, 

Shine through the mists of care, 
Banish the gloom that lies dark o'er our way ; 

Send us, oppressed with grief, — 

Send to our quick relief, 
Joyous and soothing, one luminous ray. 

Beam o'er life's turbid sea. 

Guide those who trust in thee, 
Lest in the vortex of sin we go down. 

Mary, our Mother mild. 

Grant to each loving child 
Strength for the cross that will merit the crown. 



BETWEEN WHILES 35 



AN ANGEL'S PART 



(from the latin of the rev. J. A. ALIZERI, C. M.) 



AS WHEN a cautious mother deems her boy 
In peril of a fall, she loudly chides; 
Yet when he falls, full quickly lifts him up, 
Prompt pardon grants unto the weeping child, 
And fondly kisses all his tears away; 
So let the priest rebuke each erring one, 
Yet kindly lift the sinner fallen low. 
To fall but human is; to rise, divine: 
Who stretches forth in love a helping hand 
To raise the prostrate, doth an angel's part. 
So wish, so order I, the clergy's Queen, 
That pastors ever greet with kindly yearning, 
Each truant member to the fold returning. 



36 BETWEEN WHILES 



IN RANSOM 



WITH the plaintive tones of a mourner's moans, 
Sigh the winds of bleak November, 
And each ashen cloud is the trailing shroud 

Of some loved one we remember ; 
Through the mist of years, through a veil of tears, 

We recall friends tender-hearted, 
And renew the woe felt long ago 

For the loss of our dear departed. 

Though no sterile grief gives them blest relief, 

Though no tears from their pains can deliver 
Those friends of yore on that farther shore 

Of death's darkly-coursing river, 
Rich treasures we may as their ransom pay 

While life's sunlight still streams o'er us: 
Tell Our Lady's beads for the urgent needs 

Of those dear ones gone before us. 



BETWEEN WHILES 37 



INADEQUATE 



VIRGIN and Mother, thy matchless graces 
Artists may hmn in their dreams alone 
Crude and unworthy, their fairest faces 

Pictured on canvas or carved in stone. 
Ne'er but in visions to saints accorded 
Gloweth thy loveliness here below, 
Nor till thy Son hath our trust rewarded 
May we the spell of thy beauty know. 

So, of the scope of thy mercy. Mother, 

Vainly we strive in weak words to tell ; 
Pleading thy cause with each tepid brother, 

Urging him fondly to serve thee well. 
Not upon earth shall we gauge that ocean, 

Fathomless deep of thy tender love, 
Not till as crown of our life's devotion. 

Share we thy bliss in our Home above. 



38 BETWEEN WHILES 



OUR LADY'S MIRACLES 



THEY tell me, dear Mother, that far o'er the 
ocean, 
'Mid peoples whose hearts are enamored of 
thee, 
Are shrines where thy clients behold their devotion 
Rewarded by marvels right wondrous to see. 

They tell how to victims all worn by the rigor 
Of ailments no power of art can arrest, 

Thou givest, sweet Mother of Jesus, new vigor : 
Death staying his hand at thy simple behest. 

By thousands the sufferers throng to thy altars, 
By thousands they lave in thy waters at 
Lourdes ; 
Thy help they implore with a faith that ne'er fal- 
ters : 
Thou hearest them. Mother, and lo ! they are 
cured 

Ah, well may I credit these tales of thy glory, 
Though never thy world-renowned shrines 
bless my sight. 

Thou hast writ in my heart a more wonderful story ; 
Of death changed to life, and of darkness to light. 



BETWEEN WHILES ^ 39 



TO OUR LADY OF LIGHT 



WHEN the bright star of morning, the heavens 
adorning, 
Gleams lustrous and fair over valley and sea, 
All its radiance and splendor but prompt me to 
render 
The heart's truest homage, sweet Mother, to 
thee. 

When the Day-god, uprisen from night's gloomy 
prison. 
Floods earth, sky, and water with glory and 
flame. 
All his golden rays beaming but write, to my 
seeming. 
The homage and praise that is due to thy 
name. 

When the Night-queen, unveiling her beauty, goes 
sailing 

Majestic through cloud-billows silvery white, 
My soul loves to wander above and beyond her, 

And bask in thy glory, Our Lady of Light. 



40 BETWEEN WHILES 



STABAT MATER SPECIOSA 



STABAT Mater speciosa, 
Juxta foenum gaudiosa, 
Dum jacebat parvulus. 
Cujus animam gaudentem, 
Laetabundam et ferventem, 
Pertransivit jubilus. 

O quam laeta et beata 
Fuit ilia immaculata 

Mater unigeniti. 
Quae gaudebat, et ridebat, 
Exsultabat, cum videbat 

Nati partum inclyti. 

Quis jam est qui non gauderet 
Christi Matrem si videret 

In tanto solatio? 
Quis non posset coU^tari 
Christi Matrem contemplari 

Ludentem cum Filio? 



BETWEEN WHILES 41 



STABAT MATER SPECIOSA 



(translation) 



STOOD the Mother sweet and holy, 
Joyous by the manger lowly 
Where she loving vigil kept; 
O'er her soul, its measure filling 
With a glad, ecstatic thrilling, 

Floods of purest rapture swept. 

Oh, how blest, how transport-laden, 
Was that fair, unsullied Maiden, 

Mother of the Holy One. 
How she joyed, her vigil whiling, 
All entranced by that beguiling 

Vision of her new-born Son. 

Who hath soul so steeped in sadness 
As to share not Mary's gladness, 

Bliss that words can ne'er define? 
Who but views with heart dilating 
Christ's sweet mother jubilating, 

Fondling now her Babe Divine? 



42 BETWEEN WHILES 

Pro peccatis suae gentis, 
Christum vidit cum jumentis, 

Et algori subditum, 
Vidit suum dulcem natum 
Vagientem, adoratum 

Vili diversorio. 

Nato Christo in praesepe, 
Coeli cives canunt laete 

Cum immense gaudio. 
Stabat senex cum puella, 
Non cum verbo nee loquela, 

Stupescentes cordibus. 

Eia Mater, fons amoris, 
Me sentire vim ardoris 

Fac ut tecum sentiam. 
Fac ut ardeat cor meum 
In amando Christum Deum 

Ut sibi complaceam. 

Sancta Mater, istud agas: 
Prone introducas plagas 

Cordi fixas valide. 
Tui Nati coelo lapsi, 
Jam dignati foeno nasci 

Poenas mecum divide. 



BETWEEN WHILES 43 

True, she sees that Babe fulfilling 
Man's redemption, victim willing, 

Housed with cattle — cold the while; 
Yet, above His cries deploring, 
Hears she myriad hosts adoring 

Jesus in that stable vile. 

O'er the Christ in manger lying, 
Angel-choristers are vying 

Worthily to hymn their joy ; 
While all mute and heart-astounded, 
Stand the Maid and Spouse confounded, 

Worshipping the wondrous Boy. 

Fount of love, O Mother fervent. 
Quicken me, thy sluggard servant, 

Let me thine emotions share ; 
Make my heart a furnace showing 
Naught but love of Jesus glowing 

Ever bright and brighter there. 

Mother, hear my sore beseeching: 
Deign to stamp His wisdom-teaching 

Love-wounds fast upon my mind; 
Let our smiles and tears be blended 
O'er thy Son, the Heaven-descended, 

Manger-born for humankind. 



44 BETWEEN WHILES 

Fac me vere congaudere 
Jesulino cohaerere, 

Donee ego vixero. 
In me sistat ardor tui, 
Puorino fac me frui, 

Dum sum in exilio. 

Hunc ardorem fac communem, 
Ne facias me immunem 

Ab hoc desiderio. 
Virgo virginum praeclara, 
Mihi jam non sis amara: 

Fac me parvum rapere. 

Fac ut pulchrum Fantem portem, 
Qui nascendo vicit mortem 

Volens vitam tradere. 
Fac me tecum satiari 
Nato tuo inebriari 

Stans inter tripudia. 
Inflammatus et accensus, 
Obstupescit omnis sensus 

Tali de commercio. 

Fac me Nato custodiri, 
Verbo Dei prsemuniri, 

Conservari gratia. 
Quando corpus morietur, 
Fac ut animae donetur 

Tui Nati gloria* 



BETWEEN WHILES 45 

Of thy joy partaking ever, 

Till life's close let nothing sever 

Me from Christ's communion blest; 
Strengthen thou my weak volition, 
Grant me of thy Babe fruition 

Whilst in exile still I rest. 

With thine ardor set me burning, 
Satisfy this eager yearning, 

In my heart thy Son enthrone ; 
Virgin, 'mid all virgins peerless. 
Heed my prayers, nor leave me cheerless, — 

Grant me Jesus for mine own. 

Let me clasp that Infant charming, 
In whose birth was Death's disarming. 

By whose advent life v/as won : 
With such union fully sated, 
All its longings sublimated, 
Let my heart, like thine elated, 
Henceforth be inebriated 

With the beauty of thy Son. 

To my prayer benignly yielding, 

Grant me, Mother, through His shielding, 

Ne'er to lose thy Jesu's grace ; 
Grant, when ended life's brief story, 
Safe for aye with thee in glory, 

I may see Him face to face. 



46 BETWEEN WHILES 



TO OUR LADY IN NOVEMBER 



PRONE at thine altar, O Queen tender-hearted, 
Fount of exhaustless compassion and peace, 
Plead we the cause of our faithful departed, 

Destitute captives whom thou canst release. 
Borne on the wild-sobbing winds of November, 

Plaintive their cries for sweet Charity's doles ; 
Deign thou in pity their woes to remember, 
Ransom them, Queen of the suffering souls. 

Shorten, dear Mother, our loved ones' probation, 

Lighten their torments, their grieving allay. 
Change thou their woe into glad jubilation. 

Lead them from night to the full perfect day. 
Victors on earth, and yet exiles from Heaven, 

Surely thy heart with their anguish condoles ; 
Grant, we implore, that their shackles be riven, 

Ransom them, Queen of the suffering souls. 



BETWEEN WHILES 47 



THE LITANY OF OUR LADY 



M 



OTHER of God, 'mongst all creatures 
holy, 

Virgin of Virgins most meek and lowly, 
Mother of Christ whom we follow slowly, 

Smooth thou the wearisome way for us ; 
Mother of grace from the Godhead welling, 
Mother most pure and most chaste, excelling 
Fairest of angels in Heaven dwelling, 
Mary, sweet Mother, O pray for us. 



Mother alone undefiled and peerless. 
Mother inviolate, sinless, fearless. 
Mother most lovable, — life is cheerless; 

Be thou a comfort and stay for us : 
Mother most wondrous, to grandeur fated, 
Mother of Him who the world created. 
Mother of Jesus, the Passion-sated, 

Mary, sweet Mother, O pray for us. 



48 BETWEEN WHILES 

Virgin most prudent enshrined in story, 
Virgin revered since the ages hoary, 
Virgin renowned, of thy dazzling glory 

Spare but a glimmering ray for us ; 
Virgin most potent, whose foes surrender. 
Virgin most merciful, kind, and tender, 
Virgin most faithful, our sure defender, 

Mary, sweet Mother, O pray for us. 



Mirror of Justice and all perfection. 
Seat of true wisdom by Christ's election. 
Cause of our joy and of hell's dejection. 

Passion's wild tumult allay for us ; 
Spirit-like vessel with grace abounding, 
Vessel of honor to God redounding. 
Vase of devotion unique, astounding, 

Mary, sweet Mother, O pray for us. 



Mystical rose with a bloom eternal, 
Tower of David 'gainst foes infernal, 
Tower of ivory, fair, supernal. 

Symbol of hope in the fray for us ; 
Mansion of gold that delights our vision, 
Ark where the law suffers no misprision. 
Gate of our beautiful Home elysian, 

Mary, sweet Mother, O pray for us. 



BETWEEN WHILES 49 

Star of the morning through deserts guiding, 
Health of the weak and their hope abiding, 
Refuge of sinners in thee confiding, 

Still thy compassion display for us; 
Comforter blest of the sorrow-stricken, 
Help of all Christians when perils thicken. 
Grant that our hearts with thy love may 
quicken, — 

Mary, sweet Mother, O pray for us. 

Queen of the angels, creation olden, 
Prior to thee but to thee beholden. 
Queen of the patriarchs, swift to bolden 

Souls that solicit thy sway for us ; 
Queen of the prophets, the wisdom-gifted. 
Queen of apostles by thee uplifted. 
Queen of all martyrs' with hearts woe-rifted, 

Mary, sweet Mother, O pray for us. 

Queen of confessors for Christ outspoken, 
Queen of fair virgins with vows unbroken. 
Queen of all saints, may our love betoken 

Triumph like theirs, not dismay for us; 
Queen most immaculate, sullied never, 
Queen of the Rosary blest forever. 
Union with thee not e'en death can sever, 

Mary, sweet Mother, O pray for us. 



50 BETWEEN WHILES 



AVE MARIA 



I HAVE known one word hang starlike, 
O'er a dreary waste of years, 

And it only shone the brighter 

lyooked at through a mist of tears." 



ETERNAL Ave, dwelling long unspoke, 
For age on age within the Father's mind, 
E'er voice angelic, like caressing wind, 
Low whispered thee to Mary; then there broke 
O'er sin-dark earth a gladsome dawn that woke 
Responsive thrills of joy in all mankind, — 
Of joy in Him who came earth's wounds to 
bind, 
And save a race enthralled 'neath Satan's yoke. 

O starlike word, whose beauty pure, serene, 

Hath blest the world for twice a thousand 
years, 
Undimmed by time, thy fair celestial sheen 

Still glows o'er darkened minds, and glowing, 
cheers, — 
Eternal word, thine echoes ne'er shall cease 
To soothe the sad and bring the slave release 



BETWEEN WHILES 



SPES NOSTRA" 



No DAY is ended till its sun hath set, 
Nor life completed till death's sombre 

gloom 
Steals o'er its twilight, and the yawning 
tomb 
Engulfs its sin and sorrow, toil and fret. 
Who most has cause to mourn with vain regret 
A guilty past and dread eternal doom 
May, if he will, his future course illume, 
And reap the saints' rich, golden harvest yet. 

For she, the Mother blest, whom Jesus gave, 
All-potent advocate at Mercy's throne, 

Lends willing ear when contrite sinners crave 
The sweet compassion she has ever shown 

To bruised reeds. Ah, who would not be brave 
When Heaven's Queen doth make his cause 
her own? 



52 BETWEEN WHILES 



ON OUR LADY'S VISITATION 



To JUDAH, country of the hills, one day 
There came a dust-stained maid from Gali- 
lee ; 
Her soul intent on wondrous things to be, 
No man had she saluted by the way, 
No city entered, made no brief delay; 

But, moved by sweet and eager charity, 
Sought her whose old-age son, from sin made 
free. 
E'en from his mother's womb did homage pay. 

Ah, Virgin fair, thy visitation blest 

Extend to us, grown old in sin and woe. 

Perchance when next we greet thee as our guest. 
Our sterile hearts, grace-touched, may fruitful 
grow ; 

And, tuned to thine in full and sweet accord, 

Like thine, our souls may "magnify the Lord." 



BETWEEN WHILES 53 



A THOUGHT ON THE PRESENTATION 



WHAT strange new fragrance this that scents 
the air 
Of Sion's temple with aroma sweet? 
What gracious marvel do the angels greet, 
As, poised on silver wings, they cluster there? 
Earth's choicest blossom, Sharon's Rose all-fair, 
To-day is laid at great Jehovah's feet, 
A peerless flower with beauty's grace replete, 
Its bloom, oblation ; and its odor, prayer. 

A life, the type and m.odel of our own, 

Who heeds its lesson may its guerdon claim ; 

The Mystic Rose to full perfection grown, 
Herself the Temple of the Word became. 

Hast given all to God? It hath sufficed ; 

Thy heart a temple is, wherein dwells Christ. 



54 BETWEEN WHILES 



THE ROSE-GARDEN 



IN OLDEN days, as German legends tell, 
Upon the castled banks of storied Rhine, 
There bloomed a garden fair, a floral shrine 
Wherein the Princess Criemhilde loved to dwell ; 
All knights avowed her beauty's potent spell, 

And rapture thrilled his pulse like bodied 

wine, 
The victor round whose brows her hands 
would twine 
A rose-wreath — token that he jousted well. 

A fairer garden blooms for us to-day, 

A fairer Queen of Beauty dwelleth there; 

And oft as we our pleading Aves say. 

Those mystic roses form a wreath of prayer, — 

A love-twined wreath we humbly offer thee. 

Sweet Lady of the Holy Rosary. 



BETWEEN WHILES 55 



THE FIRST WITNESS 



WHAT visit paid He first, that glowing morn, 
When, all refulgent, burst He from the 
tomb 
And flashed His glory through the sullen 
gloom 
Which, pall-like, hung o'er earth and men forlorn? 
What dearest one did prescient raptures warn 
That He was near whose features, all abloom 
With life supernal, mocked Death's boasted 
doom 
And told a tale of victory new-born? 

Not she whose penitential tears sufficed 
To wash the scarlet of her sins away ; 

The second, she, to view the Risen Christ 

When morning broke, that primal Easter day. 

Ere yet 'twas dawn, the Man-God first had pressed 

His Mother Mary to His loving breast. 



56 BETWEEN WHILES 



OUR LADY'S MONTH 



NOT for thy grace alone, fair Month, of old 
Belauded in each blithesome singer's lay, 
Not for the jocund buds that 'neath thy sway 
Their tiny petals stir, then swift unfold 
Their wealth of beauty, to bedeck the mold 

And v/oo the wanton winds that round them 

play,— 
Not for thy sunny mien or wind-songs gay 
We bid thee hail and welcome manifold. 

But chiefly that thou art Our Lady's time. 

Her gala month of homage, praise, and prayer, 

When myriad soul-harps sing in every clime 

Fond hymns of love to Heaven's Queen all- 
fair. 

Though May-day's rites of yore lie buried deep. 

Three decades now of Mary's days we keep. 



BETWEEN WHILES 57 



THE IMMACULATE 



Whene'er the poet's soul doth wander wide 
O'er all the boundless universe of dreams, 
Upon his vision clear at times there gleams 
A peerless form that, fleeting, will not bide, 
A beauteous face, lost even as descried — 

A form and face would serve as fitting themes 
For pen inspired or brush dipped in the beams 
Of gold wherewith the summer clouds are dyed. 

Yet can no poet sing, no artist paint 

The grace ideal of his vision bright. 
Or show, save in a copy blurred and faint, 

The dreamland Queen who thus has blest his 
sight : 
'Tis She, God's masterpiece of beauty rare. 
The Spouse to whom He said: "Thou art all 
fair." 



58 BETWEEN WHILES 



IN MID-ATLANTIC 



''T^IS midnight, and across the lowering sky 
1 Black cloud-battalions, tempest-driven, sweep, 
The storm-king wreaks his fury on the deep, 
The huge waves toss their foamy crests on high, 
Gigantic monsters that with hurtling cry 

Rush fiercely down the liquid cavern-steep ; 
While swift the trembling ship with plunge and 
leap, 
Evades the peril she may not defy. 

Firm-braced I stand upon the reeling deck, 

By turns a prey to dread and strange delight ; 

Though raging billows threaten speedy wreck. 
The soul acclaims their grandeur, power, and 
might : 

Yet, thus acclaiming, turns in prayer to thee, 

Sweet Mary, Mother mine. Star of the Sea. 



BETWEEN WHILES 59 



A TREASURE GAINED 



THE miser joys to count his treasures o'er, 
Nor deems that earth can purer bHss afford 
Than still to gloat upon his hidden hoard, 
And day by day increase his garnered store 
Of sterile wealth. At length unto his door 

The summons comes that may not be ignored. 
What boots him now the gold thro' life adored? 
His treasure's lost to him forevermore. 

All otherwise we hoard who day by day 

Tell o'er our blessed beads, and still entreat 
Our Mother's prayers both now and when Death's 
sway 
O'er life shall rule supreme. "Hail Marys" 
sweet 
We garner up, each hour more and more, 
And find our treasure on the eternal shore. 



6o BETWEEN WHILES 



ASSUMPTA EST 



THE weary exile since her Jesus died — 
Slow-dragging years of yearning-haunted 

peace — 
Is spent at last, and Mary's glad release 
From sin-dark earth hath come. Life's ebbing 

tid6 
Drains out; and, fleshly raiment cast aside, 
The fairest soul created wins surcease 
Of hope deferred, the while His joys increase 
Whose choirs exult through all the azure wide. 

Her comely body's fate ? No slow decay 
Its loveliness supreme shall soil or mar; 

No dissolution claims as lawful prey 

That temple perfect, free from blot or scar. 

Corruption reigns but where foul sin was guest, — 

All sinless She, and so, assumpta est. 



OTHER DEVOTIONAL VERSES 



(61) 



A REFUGE BLEST 



KNOW ye the spot where the passions cease 
raging, 
Where anger decreases and enmity dies, 
Where pride sees its baseness, where nature quits 
waging 
Its warfare with grace, and the spirit grows wise ? 
Know ye the nook where all burdens grow lighter, 

All trials less grievous, all anguish less keen, 
Where the dark shadows lift and hope's sunshine 
grows brighter, 
While Peace stills the tumult of tempests ter- 
rene? 

Wouldst find it? 'Tis near: see that deathless 
light burning 
Before the veiled cell where thy Savior for aye 
All silently waits with an infinite yearning 

Thy sorrow to comfort, thy woe to allay. 
No friend like to Him can the whole wide world 
proffer. 
No spot with such benisons dowered, I ween, 
As there at His feet, if thou only wilt offer 

Him sovereign sway o'er thy spirit's demesne. 

(63) 



64 BETWEEN WHILES 



AN AUTUMN ASPIRATION 



ARE the autumn winds mournfully sighing 
With regret for the summer time fled? 
Do they grieve for the maple-leaves dying, 

Or lament the sweet jessamines dead? 
Ah, no; but each breeze tender-hearted 

Chants a prayer for our loved ones' release : 
'' May the souls of the faithful departed 

Through the mercy of God rest in peace ! " 

Of the merciful winds of November 

May our hearts learn the touching refrain : 
'Tis the Month of the Dead — ah, remember, 

Our petitions will lessen their pain. 
Let our prayers like blest arrows be darted 

Till we win, for their sorrows, surcease, — 
Till the souls of the faithful departed 

Through the mercy of God rest in peace. 



BETWEEN WHILES 65 

PEACE 



(ego te absolvo) 



YES, go in peace, poor mourner, go; 
Thy crimes are all forgiven, 
The chains that bound thee fast to woe, 
God's minister has riven. 

Thy soul was black, and foul, and clad 

With the leprosy of sinning. 
And Heaven wept, and Hell grew glad, 

For Hell in the strife was winning. 

But thou heardst the Father's loving call : 

'* Go, seek the waters saving." 
Repentant tears have washed out all, 

The leper comes clean from the laving. 

Yes, go in peace, poor contrite heart, 
God's love thy soul indwelling; 

But henceforth choose the better part, 
Obedient, not rebelling. 

Go forth in peace, and learn at length 
What this last fall hath taught thee — 

In God alone lies all thy strength, 

Pride leads — where it hath brought thee. 



66 BETWEEN WHILES 

Remember that to conquer sin, 

The warrior must be humble ; 
HumiHty shall stand and win 

Where pride to dust will crumble. 

Go forth to battle for thy crown, 
To meet thy foes and fight them ; 

But know, to strike thy foemen down, 

God's strength, not thine, must smite them. 

Yet go in peace, in Him confide, 
He'll make thy combat glorious; 

For who has God upon his side, 
Forever proves victorious. 



BETWEEN WHILES 67 



ECHOES IN AUTUMNTIDE 



OFT as the desolate winds of November 
Wail out their dirge o'er the age-stricken 
year, 
Echoes of voices I loved and remember, 

Plaintively resonant, strike on my ear. 
Pleading, they come from beyond the dark river, 

Cries wherein patience with agony blends ; 
Moaning, the breezes their message deliver : 
•' Pity, have pity, at least you, my friends ! " 

Loved ones, who still in God's prison-house lan- 
guish, 

Mine the sweet duty your ransom to pay, — 
Mine, through Christ's merits, to lessen your an- 
guish. 

Washing all stains of your trespass away. 
Soon shall I, too, in that place of probation, 

Sigh for the Home where all suffering ends ; 
Then, in your turn, hear my soul's lamentation: 

•* Pity, have pity, at least you, my friends ! " 



68 BETWEEN WHILES 



EXILES 



TOILSOME is our journey through this stranger- 
land so dreary, 
Countless o'er our pathway still the mountain- 
peaks arise ; 
Father, dear, have mercy, for our feet are very 
weary, 
Call thine exiled children to their home be- 
yond the skies. 



Hungry is our vision for that land wherein our 
Mother 
Beams her loving glances on her children safe 
at rest, 
Hungr^^ for the sight of Him, our gracious Elder 
Brother, 
Longing to repose at length our heads upon 
His breast. 

Sick at heart, and weary of a world whose change- 
less story 
Tells of souls redeemed by Christ that Pride 
and Mammon win, 



BETWEEN WHILES 69 

Weary of the worldlings who forget the Father's 
glory, 
Marching o'er life's highway 'neath the ban- 
ners foul of sin. 

Daily, on our pilgrimage, a thousand foes assail us, 
Urging us to wander from the one appointed 
road ; 
Fearful are we, Father, lest our courage some day 
fail us. 
Lest with these, thine enemies, we take up our 
abode. 

Tired, too, so tired of the endless combat waging 
'Tween the spirit's promptings and the crav- 
ings base of sense. 
Mindful of the passions still so often fiercely rag- 
ing,— 
Eager to escape the risk of possible offense. 

Long our eyes have thirsted for the fair supernal 
mountains, 
Long our ears have waited the ecstatic bursts 
of song. 
Long our hearts have panted for a draft from 
Love's pure fountains — 
Oh, we pine to dwell with them, that bright 
celestial throng. 



70 BETWEEN WHILES 

Courage, weary exiles ; though as yet without the 
portal 
Of the Father's City, all disconsolate ye roam. 
Soon the gates will open, and the joys of life im- 
mortal 
Burst upon your vision in that longed-for, 
happy Home. 



THE FOURTH STATION 



COMES at length the sad procession, moving 
onward to the hill, 
Comes the weary Man of Sorrows, bowed beneath 

earth's weight of ill : 
Burden sore the Cross He carries on His shoulders 

drooping low. 
Sorer far the sin it symbols to His soul oppressed 
with woe. 

Few of all who throng about Him in that mocking 

train there be 
Moved to tender Him compassion, few to proffer 

sympathy ; 



BETWEEN WHILES 71 

Yet noi friendless reels He onward. See ! where 

turns the lengthy street, 
Mary, stricken dumb with anguish, waits her Son, 

her God, to meet. 

Who shall sound her sorrow's ocean, who conceive 
her awful grief 

When His pain-shot eyes uplifted hold hers for a 
moment brief? 

Jesu's Mother views His torments, notes each sin- 
gle pang and throe — 

Notes, aye, feels them: all His passion doth her 
spirit undergo. 

Son all perfect ! Spotless Mother ! By the anguish 
of that hour, 

Help me shun whate'er may grieve you, arm my 
soul 'gainst Satan's power; 

Grave the picture of Your meeting deep my mem- 
ory within. 

That the sight may fill my being with a steadfast 
hate of sin. 



72 BETWEEN WHILES 



A THOUGHT FOR CHRISTMAS 



THE shepherds who watched on the starht slopes, 
That night in the long ago, 
Were but simple men, of whose fears or hopes 

The world cared not to know; 
But only the shepherds heard the song 

That rolled through the purple skies, 
And only the lowly may join the throng 

'Round the Crib where the Man-God lies. 



LIFE'S PASSION 



ALL lives have their Passion-tide, tardy or 
fleeting, 
Up some Calvary's steep must we each stagger 
on; 
Thrice blest who the while lists to Faith, still 
repeating: 
" Beyond thy Good Friday lies Easter's fair 
dawn." 



BETWEEN WHILES 73 



*'SACERDOS ALTER CHRISTUS' 



SACERDOS ALTER Christus. Thought sublime, 
That leads to heights no human thought may 
climb, — 
A thought to treasure in thy inmost heart, 
"Another Christ," anointed priest, thou art. 
In rank above all men, so near divine, 
Archangels claim a lower throne than thine. 
In power, greater than the king who sways 
Earth's greatest realms ; for THEE e'en God obeys. 
He quits high Heaven's court at thy command, 
Descending swift unto thine out-stretched hand. 
A Christ in rank and power — friend, 'tis meet 
That thou the fair resemblance shouldst complete. 
Be thine His patient pity, love, and zeal ; 
Be thine the wounds of aching hearts to heal ; 
Be thine to follow whither lost sheep roam ; 
And bear them kindly on thy shoulders home. 
Be thine the Master's Cross with love to bear, 
And thine in endless life His Crown to wear. 



74 BETWEEN WHILES 



AN ENVIED LOT 



WHO with envy hath not murmured 
Simon of Cyrene's name? 
Who but in his heart hath whispered, 
"Would my office were the same." 
What were trials, woes, or anguish, 

What were any pain or loss, 
Could we help, as did blest Simon, 
Christ our Lord to bear His Cross? 

May we not thus aid our Savior, 

Help Him on His doleful way? 
Surely yes ; and not once only 

But with each recurring day. 
Simon's lot one need not envy 

Unto whom this truth is known : 
That the Cross of Christ we carry 

When for Him we bear our own. 



BETWEEN WHILES 75 



WHEN EVA DIED 



WHEN Eva died, our hearts in anguish 
shrouded 
Wailed out the burden of their bitter woe, 
Life's skies, once fair, all sombre grew and 
clouded, 
And Joy's bright fountain ceased its sparkling 
flow. 
" God's will be done ! " we sobbed in accents 
broken 
Above her lifeless form, Death's maiden bride ; 
And God alone knew all the rue unspoken 

That pierced our souls the day when Eva died. 

When Eva died, rich gleams of sunshine faded 

From out the brightness of our household 
cheer, 
And Grief's pale form our happy home invaded 

To temper all our joys for many a year. 
And yet God's will be done ! Our tender flower. 

Whose budding grace we watched with loving 
pride, 
Was but transplanted to a fairer bower, — 

A lily bloomed in Heaven when Eva died. 



76 BETWEEN WHILES 



VENI, SEQUERE ME" 



(to a religious, on his profession, FEBRUARY 2, 1878) 



P 



RAISE to the wisdom, true happiness prizing, 
That seeks in its labors eternal reward ! 
Hail to the hero, life's pleasures despising, 

Who fears not to follow the steps of his Lord 



Ages have flown since the counsel was given 

To him who in happiness sought the true way: 

** Wouldst thou ensure thy enjoyment of Heaven, 
Take up thy cross, Veniy seqtiei'e me^ 

Oft since thy boyhood, dear friend, now so lowly, 
While lost in thy musings or kneeling to pray, 

Flooded o'er thee the light of the Spirit most holy, 
Who spoke to thy heart : Vcni, sequcre me. 

Softly it called thee, that voice low and tender, 
The world and its passions in prudence to 
flee. 
Lest wild winds and angry thy frail bark might 
render 
A rudderless wreck on a pitiless sea. 



BETWEEN WHILES 77 

Nobly responding to God's invitation, 

Thou choosest as gain what the worldly call 
loss; 
Nature o'erpowering, in glad jubilation 

Thou cling'st with fond hope to the wood of 
the Cross. 

Blest be thy choice during time, swiftly fleeting, 
Thrice happy thy lot on the last awful day ; 

For sweet beyond measure is Christ's gentle greet- 
ing 
To those who have answered His Seqiiere me. 



STRIFE, OR REST? 



IN THE long ago when I knelt to pray, 
These words to my lips would come alway : 
" O Father of might, grant me strength to fight. 

And to conquer all foes that assail me." 
But now from my heart comes another prayer— 
'Twas taught me by sorrow and sin and care : 
"O Father of peace, let mine exile cease. 
Call me home ere my courage fail me." 



78 BETWEEN WHILES 

Tis not that with merit my days are filled — 

Ah ! me, at the thought how my heart grows 

chilled: 
Thy talents misused, thy graces abused, 

Show my past to be barren and dreary ; 
And I fain would atone for each misspent year, 
And I strive and fail, and, oppressed with fear, 
"0 Father," I cry, "let me speedily die, 

For of striving and failing I'm weary." 

Yet why should I falter, why doubt and repine? 
** My grace doth suffice." Is the promise not 

thine? 
To cower were base with the foe face to face ; 

No; to vanquish them still I'll endeavor. 
The future shall ransom the years that are gone ; 
Though I fall, I shall rise, and fight valiantly on : 
O Father and Lord, guide Thou my sword, 

Grant me victory now and forever ! 



BETWEEN WHILES 79 



PURITY OF INTENTION 



WHEN the sunbeams kiss the snowdrifts, 
Myriad diamonds sparkle bright, 
Where, while cloud-banks hid the day-god, 
Naught was seen but changeless white : 
So when love of God doth guide us 

Through life's tedious, dull routine, 
Slightest acts are changed to jewels 
Sparkling with celestial sheen. 



"MISEREMINI MEI'* 



" 71 yi ISEREMINI MEI ! " Whence comes this wail 
i V 1 That is freighting the night-wind's wings? 
'* Have pity, have pity ! " It thrills the soul 

Like no song that the world e'er sings. 
And the heart throbs quick and the pulse beats 
fast. 
While we list to its mournful strain ; 
For the tone of the voice is a plaintive tone, 
Full of sorrow and trouble and pain. 



8o BETWEEN WHILES 

*^ Miseremini met/'* The wail floats up 

From an unseen world below, 
Where departed saints their deliverance wait 

In a dungeon of silent woe ; 
From a wide, wide ocean of billowy flame, 

Where endurance no merit can win, — 
God's crucible fierce where the gold of love 

Is cleansed from the dross of sin. 

^^ ]\Iiscrei)iini Dici!'' Hark! listen well. 

Hear ye not some familiar voice 
That in years agone hath oft blended with thine, 

And with thine would weep or rejoice? 
By the love he once bore thee in days of yore, 

Let thy friend call not vainly on thee ; 
In thy charity's might, grant him endless delight, 

Strike off all his chains, set him free. 

** Misercuiiiii nici! " Ah, Christian soul, 

One day from that joyless clime. 
Thy wail shall float back 'cross the gulf of death 

To thy friends on the shores of time. 
Be generous now to those holy souls, 

And then shalt thou reap thy reward ; 
For the measure of mercy thou dealest to them 

Will be dealt unto thee by thy Lord. 



BETWEEN WHILES 8i 



THE FIRST CHRISTMAS 



WINTRY Night has spread her mantle 
O'er a fair Judean town, 
On deserted streets and highways 

Moon and stars look calmly down. 
Wealthy nobles, poor plebeians, 

Merry youths and grandsires old, — 
All repose in peaceful slumber, 
Sheltered from the bitter cold. 

All, except some lowly shepherds, 

Men of simple moods and wills, 
Who, inured to cold and hardships. 

Watch their flocks upon the hills. 
Only these, and in a stable, 

Bleak and lonely, rude and bare, 
Two expectant, humble strangers, 

Both absorbed in silent prayer. 

Midnight steals upon the mountain, 
Lo, the shepherds start with fear. 

What betides this radiant vision? 

What, this song divine they hear? 



6 



»2 BETWEEN WHILES 

Yes ; these must be forms angelic 
Winging downward from the sky, 

And a thousand hosts are singing: 
*' Glory be to God on high." 

Midnight lingers o'er the stable — 

Spouse mature and maiden mild 
Gaze with speechless admiration 

On a lowly, new-born Child. 
Myriad spirits hover round them, 

Eager all that Babe to scan ; 
For 'tis He whom God has promised, 

Christ the Savior born to man. 

Sing, ye Stars, a song of gladness; 

Echo, Earth, the blest refrain ; 
Banish, fallen man, thy sadness, 

Let each heart repeat the strain. 
•'Alleluia ! Alleluia ! 

Ever joyous be this morn. 
God hath sent our blest Redeemer, 

Christ is here — Our Savior's born ! " 



BETWEEN WHILES 83 



A TRUSTY PILOT 



ONCE when furious blasts were lashing ocean 
waves to mighty strife, 
And the billows, wildly raging, seemed like de- 
mons cursed with life. 
Stood I on a lofty headland where was dashed the 

blinding spray, 
Watching how a gallant vessel through the tem- 
pest fought her way. 

Tossed about like some frail plaything in the hand 

of sportive child. 
Now, far down 'neath towering mountains, hid 

from sight by surges wild ; 
Now, flung up by angry billows, far aloft on 

crested wave, — 
Ruin hovers all around her: surely naught that 

ship can save. 

But through all that shrieking tempest one brave 

seaman held his post, 
Guiding well the troubled helm, shunning still the 

rocky coast: 



84 BETWEEN WHILES 

Safely through the storm he bore her, till when 

waves were lulled to sleep, 
Weaker hands than his could guide her o'er the 

bosom of the deep. 

Thus it is on life's broad ocean, when Tempta- 
tion's fierce winds rise, 

When, before the waves of passion, swift our bark 
at random flies : 

It behooves us watch our helm, place a trusty pilot 
there, — 

Safe to come to smoother waters, if the pilot's 
name be Prayer. 



ON A FEAST-DAY 



'npwAS hundreds and hundreds of years ago, in 

1 a land that is far away, 
That two pilgrims threaded the thronging crowds 

of a city's streets one day, — 
A Mother fairer with beauty rarer than earth had 

hitherto seen ; 
And close by her side, her protector and guide, of 

placid and gentle mien. 



BETWEEN WHILES 85 

To the holy Temple they came at length, and en- 
tering sought the priest; 

No wealth was theirs, so the offering made for the 
Babe was of the least : 

And yet had Jerusalem's Temple grand ne'er wit- 
nessed so glorious a sight 

As Our Lady presenting the Father with her Son, 
the world's true light. 

Still keep we this Presentation of Our Lord as the 

years roll on, 
And the Light of the world is shining still as of 

old in Judea it shone; 
With vision clearer as we draw nearer and follow 

its thrice-blest ray, 
Life's quicksands dread we securely tread, for our 

Light is the Truth and the Way. 

There's a presentation for each of us who love our 

Mother well, — 
A feast that the future holds in store, though its 

date no man can tell ; 
Our souls will o'erflow on that gladsome day with 

a joy to the world unknown, 
When the Virgin Queen presents us at the foot of 

the great White Throne. 



86 BETWEEN WHILES 



PREMONITIONS 



I DREAMT last night — nay, was it only dreaming, 
Or true prevision of a coming day? — 
That through my chamber fitful lights were gleam- 

The while upon my couch I, dying, lay. 

The solemn rites were o'er ; the sacred Unction 
God's priest had ministered, and grave and low 

His voice essayed to rouse me to compunction 
Ere yet hfe's feeble tide should cease to flow. 

Ah, me ! He Httle knew how wholly needless 

His exhortation to repent of sin ; 
My looks belied me if they showed me heedless, 

Or hid the wild remorse that raged within. 

Another voice than his broke on my hearing, 

And all earth's sights and sounds grew dim 
and faint : 
With awesome dread I saw the Christ appearing, 
And, quaking, heard His Sacred Heart's com- 
plaint: — 



BETWEEN WHILES 6/ 

" For thee I underwent My cruel passion, 
For thy redemption died upon the Cross, 

CJsed every means that Love divine could fashion 
To win thy soul. Hast compassed gain or 
loss? 

"Review thy vanished past and con its story; 

Judge thou thyself its purport and its worth : 
How few thy years devoted to My glory. 

How many squandered on the things of earth ! 

•'Recall thy sins innumerous and ponder 

How each a dagger was to pierce My Heart; 

Afar from Me in life thou loved'st to wander, — 
'Twere meet that now from thee I stand apart." 

He ceased ; and demons, in the distance throng- 
ing, 
With fiendish triumph jeered and mocked the 
prayer 
I murmured still, lest Hope's supremest longing 
Should turn for aye to infinite despair. 

"Help, Mary, help!" I cried; and scarce had 
spoken 

When near the Savior stood His Mother blest; 
His visage softened — surely 'twas a token 

Christ still would listen to iier least behest. 



88 BETWEEN WHILES 

Then, stretching forth her potent hands above me, 
As if to shield me by her tender care, 

*'He loved me, Son," she said, " nay, won to love me 
Full many others: judge him not, but spare.'' 

Perchance 'twas but a dream, a scene ideal 
By Fancy painted in her hours of play; 

But on my wakened soul its impress real 
Is stamped, a lesson to endure for aye. 

Dear Lord, henceforth Thy will shall be my pleasure, 
Thy Sacred Heart my sins shall grieve no more ; 

And thou, sweet Mother, wilt in fullest measure 
My grateful love receive as ne'er before. 



A SNOWFALL ON ALL SOULS' 



TWAS the day of the Dead and the earth shared 
their sorrow, 
The brown fields were sodden, all cheerless the 
skies. 
And a new tone of grief did the autumn winds 
borrow. 
In mournful accord with the souls' plaintive 
cries. 



BETWEEN WHILES 89 

Twas the Feast of the Dead, and alight with the 
morning, 
The tapers gleamed faintly adown the broad 
nave, 
While at sombre-draped altars the bells tinkled 
warning 
Of Precious Blood flowing there, wave upon 
wave. 

All the day flowed that Blood o'er the faithful de- 
parted, 
Each drop blotting out aught of tarnish and 
stain, 
All the day ransomed souls from their prison-home 
darted, 
Blest realms of sunlight eternal to gain. 

Came the night of the Feast — and the winds 
hushed their moaning, 
From the skies fell in benison, crystals of light: 
Through the still air they hovered till brown fields 
were covered. 
And earth, like the souls, lay all spotless and 
white. 



90 BETWEEN WHILES 



A CLIENT OF THE ROSARY 



UPON the white-draped table the blessed can- 
dle's flame 
Gleams fitful through the sick-room, as life through 

the wasted frame ; 
The sacred unctions given, the priest in his sur- 
plice and stole 
Kneels by the bedside reciting the prayers for the 
dying soul. 

Tis only a poor old woman bidding adieu to life, 
Yet faith sees a soul heroic waging the crowning 

strife : 
Faith sees a client of Mary — her every breath a 

prayer, 
Awaiting the angel whose pinions already darken 

the air. 

The eyes grow fixed and glassy; the lips are 
parted now, 

And gelid drops of death-sweat exude from the 
furrowed brow; 

The heart throbs slowly, faintly; the pulse has 
ceased to thrill, 

But the poor worn hands, all shrunken, are rest- 
lessly moving still. 



BETWEEN WHILES 91 

Her love for her life's devotion disputes Death's 

trenching hold, 
And one by one through the fingers the blessed 

beads are told : 
From the lips come no faint whispers, comes only 

a labored breath, — 
But the eyes gleam conscious ever at each ** hour 

of our death." 

Through threescore years of combat, the toiling 

life of the poor. 
The beads have been her comfort, have nerved 

her to endure ; 
Her liturgy and prayer-book, she read them o'er 

and o'er, — 
What wonder she still clasps them as she nears 

the other shore? 

What mysteries does she ponder? Ah, surely 

those of glory; 
For, see, as she ends the decades, her features tell 

the story; 
The reflected light of a vision illumes the pallid 

face, 
And all joyous rings her greeting: "Hail Mary, 

full of grace ! " 



92 BETWEEN WHILES 



LOVE IN DISGUISE 



H 



OW often we mourn as a grievous misfortune, 

An event that in time proves a benison 

true, 

How often forget that behind the black cloudbanks 

The sun is still shining, the skies are still blue. 

Short-sighted and hasty, we judge swift and rashly 

Whatsoe'er in God's plans for the moment 

brings pain ; 

All unmindful that sorrow may die with the morrow, 

And gladness succeed it, as sunshine the rain. 

No blow that e'er fell on our hopes and destroyed 
them. 
No tempest that shattered our fair ships at sea, 
Wrought its havoc unknown or unwilled of Our 
Father, 
And surely none love us more truly than He ; 
The blow was a kindness, the tempest a blessing, 
Though it seemed at the time other features to 
wear. 
No ill comes unbidden but in it lie hidden 

The mercy and love of God's provident care. 



BETWEEN WHILES 93 



ROSES AND THORNS 



T 



HE world is a garden ; let's gather its roses," 
Sing the crowd in the freshness of life's 
dewy morn ; 
They pluck the rich blooms, but each culling 
discloses 
That the fairest of blossoms still covers a 
thorn. 



The cloister's a thorn-brake ; ah. Lord, all the 
nigher 
To Thee," say the few in whose hearts true 
love glows ; 
They enter ; and lo ! from each rough prickly 
brier 
There blooms out in beauty a fair, fragrant 
rose. 



94 BETWEEN WHILES 



A YEAR AGO 



(in memoriam m. b.) 



A YEAR ago, when autumn leaves were falling, 
And woodland paths were strewn with 
colors bright, 
When wailing winds, like spirits intercalling. 

Sobbed out their sorrow o'er the song-birds' 
flight. 
When Holy Church, a mother tender-hearted, 
On last All Souls' bemoaned her children's 
woe, — 
We two conversed of death and the departed 
And Purgatory's pains, a year ago. 

A year ago, the tide of life was leaping 

Along thy veins like flood of sparkling wine ; 
We spoke of Death, but dreamt not He was 
creeping 
With stealthy tread athwart my path or thine. 
We breathed a prayer, it cheers me to remember, 
For dear ones gone, and wondered did they 
know, — 
**Our turn may come," said one, "ere next No- 
vember," — 
But neither believed it would, a year ago. 



BETWEEN WHILES 95 

A year ago, Hope bade thee look before thee 

To lengthened days all free from care and dole ; 
Yet even then death's shadow darkened o'er thee, 

And now — with tears we pray, "God rest thy 
soul ! " 
Ah, me ! Perchance my days are almost ended, 

And, next All Souls', kind tears for me may 
flow. 
As faithful friends with love and sorrow blended. 

Exclaim : ** He still was here a year ago ! " 



TWO STARS 



WHEN the Wise Men sought for the new-born 
King 
Who had come to rule o'er the earth, 
They followed a star from their home afar 
To the place of Our Savior's birth. 

And the wise man still who would seek Our Lord 
From a star his true course learns, 

'Tis the tiny light that by day and night 
Near the tabernacle burns. 



96 BETWEEN WHILES 



A FRIEND THE LESS 



A NEWSPAPER item, brief and cold, 
A two-line story tersely told ; 
"Died at his home quite suddenly," — 
My lifelong friend, aged thirty-three. 

I saw him only a month ago ; 

On his face there shone the ruddy glow 

Of perfect health, robust and strong, — 

The tide of his life seemed to flow along 

So full and deep that never a fear 

Came to him or me that its ebb was near. 

We chatted and laughed o'er the days gone by, 

Youth's sunny years that so swiftly fly ; 

Contrasted the dreams of that younger time 

With our real careers in this our prime ; 

And, glancing beyond the present, planned 

A coming trip to a Southern land, 

A holiday long 'neath the purple skies 

Where the flush of the summer time never dies. 

Where the blue waves lap gently fair Italy's shore. 

And the spirit of Beauty holds court evermore. 



BETWEEN WHILES 97 

Only a month since we planned it all, — 
And now, from my sight Death's sombre pall 
Has hidden my comrade that was to be 
On that holiday journey across the sea. 
Only a month — and his sun that shone 
Noon-high has rushed to its setting, gone 
Down where the darkness and silence are rife, 
Down 'neath the western horizon of life. 

"■ God rest his soul ! " I murmur low, 

"In that other clime whither all must go. 

May Our Lady's prayers win him swift release 

From all purging flames ! May he rest in peace ! " 

And, Mother of Mercy, grant to me 

Thy protection and care through the years to be ; 

Through the years? Nay, months, for aught I 

know, 
That still remain of my lifetide's flow. 
Be thou my guide, my strength, my stay ; 
Direct my steps from day to day 
That when for me the death-bells ring. 
And mourning friends my requiem sing, 
My soul may fly to God and thee, 
At rest for all eternity ! 



98 BETWEEN WHILES 



THE DE PROFUNDIS 



OUT of the depths of my woe have I cried to 
Thee, 
Lord God compassionate, hear thou my voice ; 
Lend me Thine ear who for mercy have sighed to 
Thee, 
Pardon me suppliant, bid me rejoice. 

Lord, if iniquities Thou wilt mark heedfully. 

Who 'mongst Thy servants Thy wrath may 
sustain? 

Clemency bides in Thy heart for us needfully : 
Thine, on account of Thy law, I remain. 

Resteth my soul on His word all confidingly, 
Hopeful for aye of His mercy's award : 

E'en from the morn unto night, and abidingly, 
Israel, child of Him, hope in the Lord. 

For with the Lord there is mercy and gracious- 
ness, 

Plentiful flows His redemption's deep stream, — 
Broader than ocean its infinite spaciousness : 

Israel's sins will He also redeem. 



BETWEEN WHILES 99 

WHERE WE LAID HIM 

(in MEMORIAM father PATRICK BRADLEY) 



uT T THERE have you laid him?" — "Lord, come 
W and see." 

"And Jesus wept," so the Scriptures tell: 
Yea, groaned in spirit full bitterly 

O'er the death of His friend loved long and well. 
No need, then, to blush, be we never so brave. 
For the sorrow that whelms us wave on wave. 

No shame in the grief that seeks for relief 
In our tears that fall on a new-made grave. 

Where laid we him? First, in a shrouded room 
Of the home he ennobled for many a year. 

(Ah, me; that an aspect of deepest gloom 

Should succeed to its old-time welcome cheer ! ) 

Three well-filled decades he dwelt therein, 

A peaceful haven from strife and din. 

The bank of the poor, and a refuge sure 

For the wayworn outcast weary of sin. 

We laid him next in his other home, 

That parish church which he served so well : 
(Twas echoing still from pavement to dome 
- With his virile preaching's entrancing spell.) 



lOO BETWEEX WHILES 

What thousands of Masses therein he said, 
What m\'riads of souls to their IMaker led, 

What labors of love for His Father above 
That he wrought there while living, now plead for 
him dead ! 

In his mother-earth we laid him at last. 

Beneath the shade of the churchyard Cross, 

While the dirge of the bleak November blast 

Made moan with his flock who bewailed their 
loss. 

'Mid the scores of the dead he had buried there, 

We lowered him down with reverent care — 
His life-course run, and his lifework done — 

Rcqiiicscat in pace, our parting prayer. 

Not a common man was this friend to whose tomb 
A multitude thronged from anear and afar, 

All creeds and all classes oppressed with gloom : 
He differed from others as star from star. 

How brilliant his glory, how great our debt. 

Though we loved him well, we had scarce guessed 
yet, 
Till his death spread around a night so pro- 
found. 

We knew that our brigJitcst of stars had set. 



BETWEEN WHILES lOl 



MAY THEY Rp:ST IN PEACE 



REQUIESCANT IN PACE ! 'Tis ever 
November's compassionate dirge, 
Tis the undertone of the forest's moan, 

The sob of the ocean's surge ; 
It runs through the night-wind's threnode, 

A sad and a haunting refrain, — 
May they rest in peace ! May they win release 
From their exile and grief and pain ! 

Reqtiie scant hi pace! We echo 

The chant of the forest and sea, 
And peace anon o'er our loved ones gone 

Will break in response to our plea. 
We can, if we will, pay their ransom, 

Gan open their prison-door, 
And proffer them joy that knows no alloy. 

Nor will know it forevermore. 

Reqinescant in pace! Ah, Mother, 

Thine too is November's prayer; 
For thy heart condoles with those stricken souls 

Who fain would thy glory share. 
Then plead, we entreat, for our dear ones. 

Plead on till the moment when 
To thy fond request: ''Lord, grant them rest," 

Thy Son gives the answer, " Amen ! " 



BE TH E /-A ' / / ini.ES 



DEATH'S ADVENT 



WIT.T. it come at close of an illness long. 
A lingering- twilight of pain, 
When the gathering gloom will foretell my doom, 

Proving hope of reeo\-ery vain? 
Will life's brimming tide sink steadily down 

Like a river that ebbs to the sea, 
With a gradual fall till 'tis emptied all — 
Is it thus Death will come unto me? 

Will it come like bolt from the cloudless blue, 

Like white squall o\\ the summer main, — 
Just a sudden dart to arrest the heart. 

And palsy the teeming brain? 
W'ill the earth-lights fade and the darkness come 

With never a warning sign? 
In life's noontide glow to be stricken low, — 

Is a fate such as this to be mine? 

Ah, it naught avails to conjecture now 

What the mode of Death's coming may be; 
Whether slow or swift I am set adrift 

On eternity's boundless sea : 
Let me live each day as it were m\- last, 

Let my love for my God ne'er abate ; 
And Death at the end I shall welcome as friend, 

Come his summons or soon or late. 



BETWEIiN WHILES 103 



Tii]^: M(/rni<:R i)V mi<:rcy 



LAIF. iny soul will) dread and doubting grown 
uncjuict, 
Grieved all hopeless at the thought of squan- 
dered days, 
At the waste of life through passion's frenzied riot, 

At the sin and shame and folly of my ways. 
Vox I summoned all my guilty years before me, 

And reviewed their baleful records one by one,— 
Ah, what wonder black Despair then hovered (/cr 
me, 
Shrieking fiercely: "I'hou art lost to Mary's 
Son." 

How I trembled in that bleak hour 

At the words of the demon dark. 
How I longed tor, but lacked, the power 

To rekindle hope's dying spark. 
As a deer o'ertaken by hounds, 
I quaked at those direful sounds: 
"Too late hast thou counted the cost — 
Too late. Thou art lost, thou art lost ! " 
Then burst from my soul terror-stricken 

A prayer that in youth I had prayed : 
•*0 Mary, the clouds round me thicken: 

Sweet Mother of Mercy, give aid ! " 



I04 BETWEEN WHILES 

Swift as calm swept o'er each billow and sub- 
dued it, 
When the Man-God told the tempest: " Peace 
be still." 
Mary roused my waning courage and renewed it, 
Kindled hope again and nerved my weakened 
will. 
"Not too late, my child," her gracious voice as- 
sured me, 
'• If thy penance be but earnest and sincere ; 
Through the ages none have perished who ad- 
jured me, 
In thine every strait and peril I am near." 

And Despair fled wrathful away 

Ere ni}' Mother's voice had done. 
He had counted full sure on his prey, 

Had deemed that the battle was won ; 
But with Mary, our Lady of Hope, 
No fiend of them all can cope. 
And my soul had escaped his snare 
With the help of that Lady fair. 
So my heart with her love will quicken, 

I shall ransom my past, undismayed. 
Safe to call, when the storm-clouds thicken, 

On the Mother of Mercy for aid. 



BETWEEN WHILES 105 



THE DEAD HAND OF FOLIGNO 



I STOOD within a grey old convent's walls 
In Umbria, and heard the wondrous tale, 
How once therein God drew aside the veil 
That screens from mortal view the prison-halls 
Where languish those whose agonizing calls, 
Upborne to earth with many a sobbing wail, 
Are echoed shrill in each autumnal gale, — 
Poor captive souls whom mystic fire enthralls, 

I saw the imprint of the flame-shot hand 

Traced clear and deep in charred and black- 
ened wood. 
And felt the shadowed forms of spirit-land 

Troop lightly by and brush me where I stood, 
The while my soul exhaled a fervent prayer : 
** God grant them rest, my friends who suffer 
there ! " 



io6 BETWEEN WHILES 



LOVE'S TOUCHSTONE 



(in memoriam very rev. e. sorin, c. s. c.) 

Earth's saints, how pure soe'er to mortal eyes, 
So wholly free from blemish, soil, or stain, 
And fitted, as we deem, at once to gain 
Beyond death's portal life's supernal prize. 
Will stand, it may be, robed in other guise 

Before their Judge ; still may some debts re- 
main. 
To cancel which fierce ecstasies of pain 
Enthrall our dead, and force their doleful sighs. 

So, Father dear, to thine own counsels true, 
Our hearts to Mary's tender heart lay siege, 

Still begging her to free thy soul of rue. 
And rest eternal grant her subject liege : 

E'en thus we best requite thy gentle care, 

The touchstone of our love not praise, but prayer. 



BETWEEN WHILES 107 



NOVEMBER FEASTS 



O Mother Church, an artist thou whose skill 
Awakes the soul's most latent harmonies : 
With touch unfailing dost thou sweep its keys, 
And myriad vibrant chords responsive thrill 
In paeans jubilant as laughing rill, 

Or dirges sad as ocean's threnodies : 
'Tis thus November feasts, by thy decrees. 
With bliss and woe our hearts successive fill. 

All Saints' in joy, All Souls' in grief, we spend, 
Yet grieving, aid our dear ones gone before : 

Their ransom blest in orisons we send. 

And bid Our Lady ope their prison-door: 

For love, faith-shot, of death itself is free, 

And prayer outstretches to eternity. 



Io8 BETWEEN WHILES 



TO SISTERS IN RELIGION 



(on the death of their father) 



I ASK no better fate, when life at last 
With all its toil and fret and strife is o'er, 
When I have trembling reached the farther 
shore 
Of death's dread gulf, and my poor soul is cast 
God's crucible within, where fierce and fast 
The purging flames of justice leap and roar, 
Than this to know : that through my prison- 
door 
Pierce Sisters' prayers to lull the fiery blast. 

And so I hold your father's portion blest: 

If still, perchance, of prayer he knows the need, 

He feels his dear ones' hearts will stand the test 
Of truest love, and for him daily plead. 

Swift pardon his as mercy e'er allows 

Whose Judge is but his daughters' chosen Spouse. 



BETWEEN WHILES 109 



'REPENTANCE 



FULL oft the traitor's loathsome part I've played 
To Thee, dear Lord, whose service long ago 
I chose with all a youthful soldier's glow, 
Protesting true allegiance, undismayed 
By thought of ceaseless war with hell's brigade, — 
Yet, passion-blinded, I have joined the foe 
Who constant strive to lay Thy standard low. 
Have crimsoned in Thy blood my dastard blade. 

And dare I still, red-handed rebel, hope 

For aught more merciful than traitor's doom? 

Or beg that once again Thy ranks will ope 
To give my sorrow and my penance room? 

None other, Lord, than Thou would e'er forgive ; 

Yet grant me that, converted, I may live. 



no BETWEEN WHILES 



AN ANNIVERSARY 



A YEAR ago to-day around her bier, 
All sorrowful we clustered, doubting still 
That ne'er again the merry laugh would trill 
From out those hueless lips with jocund cheer, — 
That only in some other, farther sphere, 

Those eyes, so wont with pity's drops to fill, 
Would ope, — that verily the boundless ill 
Of death had smitten her whom all held dear. 

Twelve months have sped, and o'er her peaceful 
tomb 

A granite shaft upbears the saving Cross, 
The grasses bow and sway, the flowers bloom, — 

Yet in our hearts still aches the sense of loss. 
What can we say, the while the seasons roll, 
But, as a year ago, '* God rest her soul ! " 



BETWEEN WHILES m 



HUMAN RESPECT 



WOULDST understand his folly stark who fears 
To shape his course aright and hold his 
way 
Along the line of duty plain as day, 
Because, forsooth, of neighbors' gibes and sneers, 
Of shrugging shoulders, scornful smiles, sharp 
jeers — 
Who weakly yields himself a willing prey 
To anxious thoughts of "what the world will 
say," 
And so the course he knows the wrong one steers? 

Go, watch him when at length that course is run : 
Of what avail the world's approval now? 

Think you 'tis strong as thoughts of duty done 
To still the throbbing of that anguished brow? 

Ah, friend, e'en let the world say good or ill, — 

'Tis what God says should be our standard still. 



112 BETWEEN WHILES 



QUEEN AND NUN 



(in MEMORIAM mother AUGUSTINE) 



AN HOUR ago of coming pomps I read, 
Of many a splendid show and brilliant scene 
Will grace the Jubilee of England's Queen, — 
When suddenly they told me, *' Mother's dead." 
And swift my startled thought took wings and sped 
Beyond the boundaries of things terrene, 
Across the mystic gulf that lies between 
This world and that whereto her soul has fled. 

With faith's clear vision scanned I then the worth — 
* The gulf once crossed — of regal pomp, of fame, 
Of honors lofty as are known to earth. 

Of glory bright as decks Victoria's name ; 
And mused : "Ah, me, when life's brief course is 

run. 
No queen so royal as the lowly nun." 



BETWEEN WHILES 1 13 



THE WAY OF THE CROSS 



TEACH me, dear Lord, to tread Thy doleful way 
With spirit all in unison with Thine, 
With soul amazed that even love divine 
At such a cruel cost could thus defray 
Our debt of heinous sin, with heart a prey 
To contrite grief and penitence, that mine 
Have been the hands Thy crown of thorns to 
twine. 
And wield the scourge Thy sacred flesh to flay. 

Ah, Lord ! 'Tis I that heavy Cross should bear; 

But since my burden Thou hast made Thine 
own, 
Let me at least in spirit with Thee share 

Each day the grievous load ; let me atone, 
By tracing oft the journey Thou hast trod, 
For all my countless crimes 'gainst Thee, my God. 



114 BETWEEN WHILES 



TO FRIENDS 



(on the death of their father) 



WHY mourn the ripened ear of tasseled wheat 
That in the fullness of the harvest-day 
Sinks low beneath the sickle's ruthless 
sway 
And prostrate lies? Its life hath been complete 
From seed to blade, from blade to kernel sweet; 
And sterner fate it were should slow decay 
Sap stealthily its full-grown grace away, — 
The reaper's timely stroke brings ending meet. 

Like ripened ear, in God's own harvest-time, 
Your father's mortal husk doth stricken lie ; 

Yet know you well (who live by faith sublime) 
His soul, the body's kernel, ne'er can die ; 

Grieve not but bless ; the Hand divine hath given 

To each of you one friend the more in heaven. 



BETWEEN WHILES 1 15 



IN THANKSGIVING 



I THANK Thee, Lord, for blessings manifold — ■ 
For countless gifts of nature and of grace. 
For life and health, for courage to embrace 
In youth the calling of Thy choice, and hold 
Thereto through years when pristine love grew 
cold, 
For all Thy patience while I ran apace 
Down Folly's path, for warnings to retrace 
My wayward steps ere Death's dread knell be 
tolled. 

Not least I thank Thee for each holy friend 

Whom Thou hast taught to tender me a love 

Unearned as sweet, whose daily prayers ascend 
More potent than mine own could ever prove, 

Whose face Thou wilt accept as Job's of old, 

And, guilt condoned, my weakness still uphold. 



IN VARIOUS KEYS 



BETWEEN WHILES 1 19 



THE NEW YEAR'S GUERDON 



WHAT does this New Year hold for me, 
What is its largess like to be, 
What shall mine eyes ere its waning see. 

As morrow succeeds the morrow? 
Shall peace or strife fill each passing day, 
Life's sky be sunlit or sober grey, 
Will flowers or thorns strew my future way, — 
Does the New Year bring joy or sorrow? 

Ah, the New Year holds whatsoe'er I list 

And my way will be dark with the shrouding mist, 

Or bright, by the golden sunshine kissed, 

Just as I choose to make it. 
We fill as we please all the years that run, 
Cloud them with rain or gild them with sun ; 
Life's truest joy dwells in duty done. 

Its grief burdens those who forsake it. 



20 BETWEEN WHILES 



A THOUGHT 



EVER and always the river is flowing 
Down to the sea, 
Ever and always the breezes are blowing 

Over the lea, 
Ever the clouds o'er the heavens are sailing 
Swift-passing spirits with winding-sheets trailing, — 
Earth and its creatures with order unfailing 
Restless as we. 

Ever and always my life-stream is racing- 
Down to death's sea : 
Why should I waste, then, the moments in chasing 

Shadows that flee? 
Foolish to value this life over measure. 
Foolish to covet or honor or pleasure. 
Wise am I only when seeking Christ's treasure 
Promised to me. 



BETWEEN WHILES 121 



TO AN ABSENT FRIEND 



THOU hast parted from those who e'er found 
thee 
A friend in their joys and their tears, 
Thou hast broken the bright chains that bound 
thee 
To hearts that have loved thee for years ; 
As the torrents that rush down the mountain 

With ruin flood valleys below, 
So the wellsprings of sorrow's deep fountain 
Flood my soul with the waters of woe. 

Thou art gone, and in mournfulest measure 

The night-wind is chanting my pain, 
Yet it whispers one note of sweet pleasure — 

'Tis of days when we'll meet once again ; 
For all dark clouds have sure a fair lining 

Of beauteous and silvery light, 
And the sun of our union is shining 

Through the shadows of absence's night. 



BETWEEN WHILES 



LIFE'S GOLDEN BOWL 



ONCE on a time, in the ages olden, 
The heyday of chiv^alry, faith, and love, 
The dwellers on earth owned themselves beholden 

For all good gifts to their Maker above. 
Then the lord and the vassal, patrician, peasant, 

Each knew the worth of his deathless soul, 
Nor dreamt of escaping e'en ills incessant 

By laying rash hands on life's golden bowl. 

But the world has grown older ; misguided science 

Has shattered full many an ancient belief; 
And men at their Maker now hurl defiance 

Whom once they blessed for their woes' relief. 
Religion's a sham and faith is treason, 

Death ends all, for there is no soul ; 
So the slightest of ills is deemed good reason 

For wantonly breaking life's golden bowl. 

Poor pitiful dupes of a spreading madness, 
Most woful of sights in a woful world ! 

Self-sentenced thus to eternal sadness, 

Down to the bottomless pit self-hurled. 



BETWEEN WHILES 123 

Too late have ye learned that the God who made you 
Holds high domain o'er each living soul, 

Too late discovered that fools betrayed you 

When they counseled your breaking life's 
golden bowl ! 



GENEROSITY 



HAST thou sometimes wished for unbounded 
wealth, 
For riches beyond all dreaming, 
And planned the good thou wouldst do by stealth 

With the gold in thy coffers teeming? 
Has thy heart ached sore for the stricken throng 

Crushed down by stern Poverty's forces, 
And thy spirit yearned to help them along. 
If only thou hadst the resources? 

Muse not on the bounty that ivould be thine, 
Wert thou master of golden treasure; 

Rather lavish the wealth of that richer mine 
Which each may own at his pleasure. 

Give freely of kindness from day to day, 
Let gentleness fail thee never : 

Mere gold and silver soon pass away ; 
' Kindly words will endure forever. 



124 BETWEEN WHILES 



DECEITFUL CALMS 



OUT upon the ocean when the skies are clearest, 
When no gladsome ripples o'er the waters 
sweep, 
Cautious grows the sailor, for the storm is nearest 
When in perfect calmness rests the mighty 
deep. 

Down amid the valleys when the air is heavy. 

When no breeze is tossing leaflets to and fro, 
Nature's warring powers soon their troops will 
levy. 
Soon will crash the thunder, soon the torrents 
flow. 

In the darksome jungle when in perfect quiet 

Crouches low the tiger, watching close his 
prey. 

Soon the bound is taken, soon ferocious riot 

Bursts upon the silence that o'er the forest lay. 

On the broad Niagara, smoothest of the river 

Glides the mighty volume just above the fall ; 

There the fated boatman feels no warning quiver, — 
Yet, one moment later, death has ended all. 



BETWEEN WHILES 125 

Like the perfect stillness of river, vale, or ocean, 
Like the breathless silence of the jungle's king, 

Oft the soul seems calmest, freest from commotion. 
When its dormant passions to life and vigor 
spring. 



GIANTS 



OUT on the hillside over the way, 
A dozen of merry lads at play 
With noisy shouts and laughter gay, 
A huge white giant are making ; 
Hither and thither, to and fro. 
Are rolled about the balls of snow 
Which soon so great and heavy grow 
That the rollers' backs are aching. 

Ever and ever, day by day, 

When skies are cloudless or sober gray, 

In joy or grief, at work or play. 

Some giant each boy is making: 
For habits grow, like the snowballs, fast. 
And bad ones soon great shadows cast, 
Till there comes a cruel day at last 

When their strength defies all breaking. 



126 BETWEEN WHILES 



MEMORY 



Memory's bells to-night are chiming, 
Chiming out a weird refrain, 
Measured as the cadenced rhyming 
Of some sweet poetic strain. 

Memory's brush to-night is painting, 
Painting scenes of long ago, 

Clear the outlines, no sad tainting 
Mars the pictures as they grow. 

Memory's torch to-night is throwing, 
Throwing o'er the years gone by 

Beams of light that swift are showing 
Forms that 'neath the snowdrifts lie. 

Memory's eyes to-night are glancing, 
Glancing at my youth's fair prime, 

Days of bliss and hopes entrancing 
Down the corridors of time. 

And the lesson Memory teaches. 
Thus reviewing all my past, 

Is the same that Conscience preaches — 
Only virtue's joys can last. 



BETWEEN WHILES 127 



AT A GRAVE IN WINTER 



WHAT doth it profit to gain the world, 
Or madly to seek as our goal 
Its honor and glory, wealth and joy. 

If we lose, in the seeking, our soul? 
Whether men my life and my work ignore, 

Or acclaim me a hero brave, 
What shall I reck when the snowflakes weave 
Their jewelled shroud o'er my grave? 

What doth it profit to gain the world — 

A rank which the world calls proud, 
A permanent niche in the Temple of Fame, 

Or the fleeting applause of the crowd? 
Not the censure or praise of the world I've left. 

But of Him who my life to me gave, 
Will matter to me when the snowflakes drop 

Their crystal gems o'er my grave. 

Oh, the heart cries aloud for an infini'te good, 
A cry which the world can ne'er still ; 

And there's one thing alone that profits in life, 
The doing of God's holy will. 

If only the years that are mine be spent 
In an effort my soul to save. 

The rest will be naught when the snowflakes. weave 
, Their jewelled shroud o'er my grave. 



28 BETWEEN WHILES 



THE VACANT CHAIR 



SILVER moonbeams gently stealing 
Through our cottage-pane to-night 
On a group of children kneeling 

Throw their soft and mellow light. 
Lonely all, no word is spoken, 

Grief is stamped on every brow; 
Let the silence be unbroken — 
Mother's chair is vacant now. 

Oft in joy we thronged around it, 

Oft, when sad with childish care, 
Sought relief and ever found it 

In the dear one seated there. 
On that throne each night we kissed her, 

Gave her there our morning bow — 
But to-night, how we have missed her ! — 

Mother's chair is vacant now. 

Yet, though mother's gone forever, 

Still her gentle spirit's near: 
Ah, her kindly voice can never 

Cease resounding in my ear. 
And that seat, my glances meeting 

I shall see her placid brow. 
And shall hear her loving greeting, 

Though her chair be vacant now. 



BETWEEN WHILES 129 



TO AGNES 



(on her birthday) 



BIRTHDAYS are milestones we pass on life's 
journey, 
Nearer with each comes the terminal goal ; 
Birthdays are breathing-whiles snatched from life's 
tourney — 
Strife wherein each plays the warrior's r61e. 
Lagging they come to the youth or the maiden, 

Eager to grasp what the years hold in store, — 
Swift, all too swift to the old, sorrow-laden. 
Musing on days that are lost evermore. 

Namesake of her who is maidenhood's glory, 

What shall I wish thee, this festival day? 
Surely that thou live anew her fair story. 

Treading undaunted where she leads the way. 
What though no martyrdom's crowning betide 
thee, 

Still mayest thou love with St. Agnes's love, 
Shunning with her whatsoe'er would divide thee 

From the Redeemer, thy blest Spouse above. 

9 



I30 BETWEEN WHILES 



LIFE'S HEROES 



N 



OT alone is he a hero who is brave where can- 
non thunder, 
Or with ardor hastes to mingle in the carnage 
of the strife ; 
Greater deeds by nobler soldiers oft elicit naught 
of wonder, 
For the field whereon they act them is the 
battlefield of Hfe. 

'Tis not always he whose name is blazoned fair in 
Honor's story, 
Who most merits from his fellows glowing trib- 
utes to his might ; 
Oft a higher, purer hero acts a part unknown to glory. 
Acts it simply as his duty, struggling bravely 
in the right. 

Striking ventures, deeds uncommon, feats of rash, 
instinctive daring, 
Do not always mark the presence of a courage 
real, true ; 
Better far the reasoned action of a heart no effort 
sparing, 
First to know what deed is worthy, then that 
deed forthwith to do. 



BETWEEN WHILES 131 

Call him hero, if you wish it, who in storm or con- 
flagration. 
Risks his life in deadly peril to preserve a 
friend or foe ; 
Still the act, though brave, may cost him far less 
trouble and vexation 
Than the slightest manly effort to restrain his 
passions' flow. 

E'en ignoble men and hardened, nature's coarse 
and wholly brutal. 
Sometimes, spurred by love of plaudits, seem 
to play the hero's role ; 
Theirs is but a noble impulse, and their claim 
must e'er prove futile. 
If they wish their names as heroes fair inscribed 
on Honor's scroll. 

See the oft-recurring struggles, daily combats, 
trials bitter 
That beset the faithful Christian, striving for 
celestial crown : 
Is not he who here is victor far more noble, better, 
fitter 
To receive our glad acclaim and win a lasting 
bright renown? 



132 BETIVEEN WHILES 

Some there are, both high and lowly, who repine 
not when they're smitten, 
Cheerful while their spirits quiver 'neath afflic- 
tion's heavy rod : 
These are heroes, brave and worthy, and their 
names are ever written. 
Not on fleeting human records, but in volumes 
penned by God. 



A BIRTHDAY GREETING 



(to s. p.) 



EACH birthday ends one chapter more 
Of the book entitled LIFE, — 
Ah, when we glance the pages o'er, 
And mark the bootless strife 
That filled the years so swiftly flown, 
How oft we sigh and grieve and moan I 

Each birthday opes a chapter new 
Of that book we all must write, — 

Oh, let thine treat of courage true, 
Of deeds forever bright. 

Of patience 'neath the chastening rod, 

And heart-throbs beating all for God. 



BETWEEN WHILES I33 



THE HOLY INNOCENTS 



SWEEPS through Judea a wild lamentation, 
Threnode of heart-riven, piteous woe, 
Wailings of Rachels whose sad tribulation 

Solace nor comfort nor batcment can know : 
Bursts forth in Heaven a paean of gladness, 
Jubilant chorus of conquest and praise, 
Greeting the victims of tyranny's madness, 
Martyrs of Christ in their infancy's days. 

Babes and yet heroes, for, dowered with reason, 

Clearly they saw and accepted their doom, 
Bartering life in its yet budding season, 

Choosing in preference martyrdom's bloom ; 
Fuller of triumph than pathos their story — 

Little ones blest 'mongst the children of earth, 
Infants with Christ and first fruits of His glory, 

Innocents crowned with the death that is life. 



134 BETWEEN WHILES 



MUSINGS 



DO WE ever in our dreamings 
Read the Future's mystic tale? 
Do we ever catch brief glimpses 

Of the scenes beyond the veil? 

When the body, wrapt in slumber, 

Cumbers not the spirit's flight, 

Does the soul outstrip the present. 

Speeding onward to the light? 

Do our dreams prove sometimes truthful? 

Do we ever thus foresee 
Aught that lies beyond the moment, 

Can we know what is to be ? 
Oft I think so, and I wonder, 

When the mists have rolled away, 
Will the pictures fair of dreamland 

Then look lovely as to-day. 



BETWEEN WHILES 135 



THE DEATH OF A RELIGIOUS 



[LOOK on Death, but do not feel the sadness, 
grief, or pain 
I've felt in other chambers where that Monarch 

held his reign, 
I gaze on waxen features cold and lifeless as the 

snow, 
Yet cannot mourn the bright young life that made 
those features glow, 

I looked upon her dying — marked the short and 
fitful breath, 

And heard the meek and gentle voice plead earn- 
estly for death ; 

It was no plaint of anguish born, no cry for pain- 
less rest, 

'Twas childlike Love's imploring prayer to gain 
her Father's breast. 

A chaste and spotless lily guarded well from tem- 
pests wild, 

Her heart inflamed with love divine, her soul all 
undefiled, — 

Ah, solemn Death no terror brings to mortals such 
as she ; 

He comes a friend, who cuts the cord and sets a 
captive free. 



136 BETWEEN WHILES 

Then grieve not, ye who loved her; chant no 
mournful dirges here ; 

'Tis joy's triumphant paeans that should echo 
round her bier. 

Rejoice as for those heroes bold who strike bat- 
talions down, 

For she has fought life's battle and has won the 
victor's crown. 

And ye who saw the virtues of your Sister, teacher, 

friend. 
Oh, treasure well her lessons that like hers your 

lives may end ; 
Let the world be '* in the background"; keep 

God's glory ever first. 
And so, like Sister Clement's, shall your souls for 

Heaven thirst. 

I kneel beside the marble form (we promised her 

our prayers), 
But musing on her sacrifice, her trials, troubles, 

cares. 
Her holy life and saintly death, methinks her joy 

I see ; 
And so the prayer I murmur is : " Dear Sister, 

pray for incT 



BETWEEN WHILES 137 



IDEALS OF YOUTH 



There's a legend that's told of a student of old, 
Who afar from the world loved to roam, 
How he found a bleak cave near the wild ocean wave, 

How he lived there and made it his home ; 
And he sang to the breeze that came over the seas, 

Of the Master whose love he would win, 
For he spent all his days in thanksgiving and praise, 
And he dreaded no evil but sin. 

Thus in solitude drear for full many a year 

Did this student in sanctity dwell, 
And his garments were mean, and right frugal, I 
ween. 

His repasts in that dim, rocky cell. 
But his soul still enjoyed a content unalloyed, 

Still his love for his Lord grew amain ; 
And he chanted his psalm in the storm and the calm, 

And the ocean-wave sang the refrain. 

And one eve when the surge moaned a low, plain- 
tive dirge. 
And the sky lowered sullen and dark, 
Through the blackness of night he espied a bright 
light. 
And afar on the waters a bark. 



138 BETWEEN WHILES 

Not more wondrously fast blows the wild, wintry 
blast 
Than that vessel strange dashed through the 
wave, 
And the student with dread saw, as onward she 
sped, 
That her course led direct to his cave. 

But a marvelous sight filled his soul with af- 
fright, 
When yet nearer to land the bark came ; 
For her sails and her shrouds were but luminous 
clouds, 
And her pennants were serpents of flame. 
Still unchecked was her speed, though most urgent 
the need, 
"She'll be wrecked," cried the student, " full 
soon, 
But a rod or two more, and she strikes on the 
shore " — 
Then he sank to the earth in a swoon. 

And when consciousness came, he invoked a blest 
Name, 
Then arose with a mind less alarmed ; 
But he started amazed when about him he 
gazed. 
For the bark was there still and unharmed. 



BETWEEN WHILES 139 

And he saw a young queen robed in silvery sheen, 
And two kings clad in purple array, 

Gliding swift o'er the foam, and they entered his 
home, 
And the student nor swooned nor could pray. 

Said one monarch : ** Behold, I'm the conqueror, 
Gold, 

At my shrine all mankind bend the knee ; 
And the world you may sway with the wages I'll pay. 

If you pledge your allegiance to me." 
Then the second : *' I'm Fame; follow me and thy 
name 

Shall be known in each far distant clime. 
And thy deeds of renown with the years will go down, 

To be sung by the bards of all time." 

"Queen of Pleasure am I," was the maid's joyous 
cry; 
** Let your heart and your homage be mine. 
And the waves on life's stream will sparkle and gleam 

With the lustre of bright ruby wine." 
As she ceased, a fair youth on whose countenance 
Truth 
Stamped a charm of ineffable grace, 
'Mid the group did appear, and with jasper-tipped 
spear. 
Wrote these words on the wall's rugged face : — 



I40 BETWEEN WHILES 

" Would you win constant joy and the sweets that 
ne'er cloy, 
Serve not Pleasure, nor Wealth, nor Renown ; 
Let your soul ever laud the perfections of God, 

And your union with Him be life's crown." 
In the student's bright eye could the monarchs 
descry 
Their defeat, so they fled as they came ; 
And no more to that cave o'er the wild ocean- 
wave ; 
Sped the bark with the pennants of flame. 



All this happened of old ; but Fame, Pleasure, 
and Gold 
Still entice to their ranks ardent youth ; 
And the glitter and glare of the robes that they 
wear 
Oft eclipse the chaste raiments of Truth. 
Yet the Spirit of Light on each heart still doth 
write, 
As the youth of the legend on stone : — 
*' To secure constant bliss in the next world and 
this. 
Love your Savior and serve Him alone," 



BETWEEN WHILES 141 



BOY AND MAN 



THE boy of to-day is the man of to-morrow, 
And to find out what manner of man he 
will be, 
No aid from magician or seer need we borrow. 

In the glass of his present his future we see. 
Self never is changed in the process of growing, 

No harvest is other than slept in the seed ; 
And each boy in life's garden is constantly sowing 
His self of the future, a flower or weed. 

Ah, light-hearted youth to whom Hope is e'er 
chanting 
Of the honor and fame to be won in life's 
prime, 
Be not reckless to-day of what seeds you are 
planting, 
Nor believe that a habit grows weaker with time. 
As your seed, so your harvest, with joy or with 
sorrow 
You are freighting each hour that passes away ; 
And the noble and true 'mongst the men of to- 
morrow 
Are the pure-hearted, upright, good boys of 
to-day. 



142 BETWEEN WHILES 



TO M. B. F. 



WHEN we shall meet, through chance or call 
of duty, 
Though autumn sere or winter stern be king, 
The world, transformed, will glow with sudden 
beauty. 
And earth and sky don all the charms of 
spring. 
For eyes will beam a light than sunshine fairer. 
As hand clasps hand and hearts responsive 
beat; 
And lips will murmur dulcet music rarer 

Than nature's melodies, when we shall meet. 

When we shall meet, and scan each other's faces, 
As once we scanned them in the years gone by, 

The ravage wrought by Time's relentless traces 
Will futile prove to win a tear or sigh. 

Though gone the beauty that was youth's adorn- 

Each soul will leap its kindred soul to greet, 
And pulses throb as in life's radiant morning 
With ecstasy of joy, when we shall meet. 



BETWEEN WHILES 143 

When we shall meet, perchance no more to sever 

The blest communion of the olden time, 
Our spirits twain, e'en more attuned than ever, 

Will prove the sweets of friendship's golden 
prime. 
The path of duty will grow smooth and pleasant, 

Our transient sorrows pass like shadows fleet. 
And life itself seem benison incessant 

To you and me, dear friend, when we shall 
meet. 



DREAMING 



DREAMING of youth and its gladness. 
Dreaming of age and its sadness, 
Musing why tears grow salter with years. 
Dreaming of days long ago ; 
Thinking how always '* to-morrow" 
Brought with each pleasure a sorrow, 
Musing on strife in the battle of life. 
Dreaming of bliss and of woe. 

Dreaming of boyhood's glad hours, 
Dreaming of sunshine and flowers, 



144 BETWEEN WHILES 

Heaving a sigh that flowers must die, 
Dreaming of grief and of pain ; 
Mourning dead friends tender-hearted, 
Musing on days ere we parted, 
Hearing so well each funeral bell. 

Dreaming I'll meet them again. 

Dreaming of sweet inspirations, 
Dreaming of spirit-vibrations, 
Hearing the voice that decided a choice, 
Dreaming of gain and of loss ; 
Thinking of love glowing brightly, 
Musing on burdens borne lightly, 
Breathing a prayer thus ever to bear, 

Dreaming of Christ and His Cross. 

Dreaming of weary paths wended, 
Dreaming of life's struggles ended, 
Thinking of peace that will come with release, 
Dreaming of Death's darksome frown ; 
Musing on raptures supernal, 
Sighing for mansions eternal, 
Longing for rest 'mid the throngs of the blest. 
Dreaming of Christ and His Crown. 



BETWEEN WHILES HS 



BENEATH THE ROSE 



EXCEPT the pure and sinless child, 
Each soul in secret mourns ; 
In life, as on the rose-bush wild, 

The blossoms hide the thorns. 



DAY BY DAY 



ONLY a day at a time we live, 
And each day's cares are but fugitive, — 
They are sifted through sleep as sand through a 
sieve, 
And are gone ere the matins chime ; 
The heaviest crosses that penitents bear, 
The thorniest crowns that the martyrs wear, 
Are borne and worn not always and e'er. 
But only a day at a time. 

Only a day at a time we grieve, 

How bitter soever the woes that cleave 

Our hearts in twain, for a blest reprieve 

Forerunneth each morrow's prime; 
The sighs that echo our soul's dismay. 
The scalding tears that enforce their way. 



146 BETWEEN WHILES 

Are sighed and cried, not forever and aye, 
But only a day at a time. 

Only a day at a time, my soul : 
Mourn not that tedious years may roll 
Ere, our pilgrimage over, we reach our goal 

And enter the heavenly clime ; 
For aught that we know the end may be near, 
And Death's pale shadow full soon appear, — 
But we need not heed if we persevere 

Just for a day at a time. 



WILL YOU BE MY FRIEND?" 



SHALL I be your friend? 'Twere a slight re- 
quest, could you by friendship mean 

The professions loud of the passing crowd that we 
meet with on life's scene ; 

Just to nod and smile, and converse the while the 
heart is never stirred — 

Could you think thus of friendship's bond, then 
** Yes" were an easy word. 

But if you mean, as you do, I ween, a friend like 
my ideal, 

'Tis a jewel rare that you seek to wear, true friend- 
ship pure and real. 



BETWEEN WHILES 147 

Shall I be your friend ? Shall I mark you out and 

rank you far above 
My neighbor of the universe whom my God has 

bid me love? 
Shall I further go and 'mid those I " know," set 

you apart from the throng? 
In the crowded swarm will your hallowed form 

stand forth in colors strong? 
Nay, more, will you be one of the few who are 

friends, not "friendly" only, 
Whose affection blest is a haven of rest that I seek 

whene'er I'm lonely? 

Shall I be your friend? Will my soul respond with 

an echo clear and true 
To the varying tones, be they glees or moans, that 

shall thrill thy being through? 
When the cloud-banks rise and obscure thy skies, 

will their shadows darken mine? 
Will the golden beams of sunlight gild my life 

while tingeing thine? 
When the arrows fierce of affliction pierce thy 

heart e'en unto bleeding. 
Shall I feel for thee true sympathy, and in thy 

cause be pleading? 



148 BETWEEN WHILES 

Shall I be your friend? Will your name be one 
that shall ever come unbid 

When I bow before the white-veiled door of the 
cell where my Lord lies hid ? 

At the birth of each day when I kneel to pray to 
the holy Three in One, 

Shall I ask for thee that the night may see thy 
duty nobly done? 

At the altar, too, shall I think of you in supplica- 
tion fervent? 

Shall I there implore of God's grace still more for 
my friend and His meek servant? 



Shall I be your friend? Will oach tremulous plaint 

breathed out by thy stricken soul 
Wake an answering note in my heart to float like 

some sighing funereal toll? 
When thy dulcet rhymes, full of happy chimes, 

more sweetly than joy-bells ring. 
Will my soul rejoice and my jubilant voice join 

thine and as gladly sing? 
Will my cold, dead words of the warbling birds the 

magic of soothing borrow? 
Will they laugh when thou'rt glad? When thou'rt 

grieving and sad will they chasten and 

lessen thy sorrow? 



BETWEEN WHILES 149 

Shall I be your friend ? Through the coming years 

shall we cheer each other along, 
O'er the desert of time to that beauteous clime of 

glory and love and song, 
To that city bright of entrancing delight and bliss 

that shall never cloy, 
Where the sad are blest and the weary rest, and 

the mourning are flooded with joy. 
Where our Virgin Queen sits in radiant sheen with 

none but her God above her. 
Where she decks with gems rich diadems, fair 

crowns for the souls who love her? 

Shall I be your friend? 'Tis no slight request, 

yet clear as a song-bird's trill. 
Through my inmost soul does the answer roll, and 

the answer is, '*I will." 
In the woe and strife of this chequered life, in its 

gladness pure and deep. 
When the storm-winds roar, when the storm is o'er 

and billows are lulled to sleep, 
In the gloom of despair, or when hope shines fair, 

my friendship shall fail thee never. 
Yes, I'll be your friend to our journey's end — 

may the bond endure forever ! 



so BETWEEN WHILES 



ECHOES OF TWILIGHT 



SOFTLY fall the shades of even, 
Blending twilight into night, 
See, the sentinel of heaven. 

One lone star is shining bright. 

Perfumed zephyrs, gently sighing, 
Woo the voiceless trees to play ; 

Rustling leaflets, quick replying, 
Bid farewell to parting day. 

Swiftly are the moments fleeting — 

How the hours hurry on ! 
Scarcely time to give the greeting, 

Or employ them, ere they're gone. 

Of the years whose marks I'm bearing, 
Were all spent in worldly joy? 

Or were some used in preparing 
For a Home without alloy ! 

Were they spent in idly dreaming, 
Painting scenes that cannot last, 

Or like diamonds are they gleaming 
Through the shadows of the past? 



BETWEEN WHILES 15 



SOME DAY 



SOME day the friends we hold most dear 
Will vanish through the portal 
Where ends each long or brief career, 

Death's gate to life immortal. 
Some day the tokens that had shown 

Our faithful love and tender, — 
The smile, the kiss, the gentle tone, 
We would, but may not, render. 

Some day — alas, when 'tis too late. 

We'll mourn our present blindness, 
Who still keep closed affection's gate. 

And niggards prove of kindness. 
Ah, let what love indwells thy heart 

In word and deed be spoken, 
Nor wait the day when Death holds sway, 

And vain is every token. 



152 BETWEEN WHILES 



IN A YOUNG LADY'S ALBUM 



^'f^EHOLD the handmaid of the Lord," she said, 

L3 A Jewish Maiden of the long ago; 
**What path soe'er He wills my feet shall tread, 
No other will than His my soul shall know." 

Wouldst thou, fair, maiden of a later age, 
Partake one day of Mary's rich reward? 

Keep pure life's album ; on its every page 

Write first : " Behold the handmaid of the 
Lord ! " 



A CHANGELESS LAW 



As THE soil is rich or sterile, will its yield be 
great or small, 
But no mold can change the nature of the germ 

thereon let fall. 
As the seed is, so the harvest: only oaks from 

acorns grow ; 
Like produces like forever, and we reap just what 
we sow. 



BETWEEN WHILES 153 



MY LETTER 



OH, MY heart is sick and my spirits are 
low, 
There's a throbbing weight on my brain; 
The tedious hours are very slow, 

And life, to-day, is a pain. 
'Tis bitter and hard, this lot of mine, 

Tis but labor and trouble unblest. 
And, a-weary, I long for the day's decline, 
For night, for sleep, and for rest. 

All the world outside is joyless, too, 

There are dull gray clouds o'erhead. 
And the face that the earth presents to view 

Is the still cold face of the dead. 
E'en the moaning winds, as they hurry by, 

Wail a dirge o'er the joys that "have 
been" — 
We are chanting one strain, the winds and I — 

** Life is bleak without and within." 

The postman's knock? Now Heaven send 

He bears a letter for me ! 
He does, and 'tis one from my dearest friend, 

In the hand I love best to see : 



154 BETWEEN WHILES 

m 

Full eager I scan the pages bright, 
And long ere I reach the close, 

My heart grows glad and my spirits light, 
And my soul with peace o'erflows. 

I turn to my work, not tedious now, 

'Tis a labor of love and joy; 
No saddening fancies cloud my brow, 

No vain regrets annoy. 
And there's beauty, too, in the earth and sky, 

The sun the dull clouds breaks through ; 
And the breezes echo my soul's glad cry, 

" Oh, blest is a friendship true ! " 



AT CLOSE OF DAY 



WHEN the long day is done and of duties it 
brought with it 
Conscience declares we have overlooked none. 
When the spirit of Indolence, for that we fought 

with it. 
Found us resolved against dallying aught with it, 
Sweet is the sense of repose fairly won. 
When the long day is done. 



BETWEEN WHILES 155 

Be we never so weary, at length there is rest for 
us, 
Comfort they know not their duties who shun ; 
For the demon of Idleness proves no fit guest for 

us, 
Labor-filled hours are sweetest and best for us, 
Freest from sins and remorses that stun, 
When the long day is done. 

When our life's day is done, and no pleading will 
stay for us, 
E'en for a moment, its swift-sinking sun, 
May the sum of our work with our Father out- 
weigh for us. 
Trespass and error replete with dismay for us, 
Crowning with triumph the course we have run, 
When life's long day is done ! 



156 BETWEEN WHILES 



IN SUMMER-TIDE 



WITH fragrant perfumes gently sighs the 
breeze 
Of summer o'er the woodland's fairest glade ; 
The sweet musicians, hid in coolest shade, 
Outpour their liquid song to listening trees; 
The purling streamlet through the greensward 
flees, 
Like wayward child who, wandering as he 

played. 
Has far from cottage-door and garden strayed, 
And now hies home to gain his mother's knees. 

Who would not, peaceful, rest forever here. 

Secure from life's rude storms, from care and 
woe 

Too often wrought by those we hold most dear, — 
Unmoved by fickle Fortune's ebb or flow, 

Commune with nature through the changing year. 
And nature's bounteous God more truly know? 



BETWEEN WHILES 157 



LOVE OF MOTHER 



COULD mortal eye but pierce the secret cell 
Of human hearts, and bend a curious gaze 
On gems there buried deep, whose lustrous 
rays 
Illumine bright the ardent thoughts that well 
From gushing founts within, 'twould often tell 
A tale to fill our soul with joy and praise : 
We'd ponder more on God's mysterious ways, 
And on His mercy's greatness longer dwell. 

For, shining clear in hearts the most depraved, 
One lovely jewel throws its gleam above 

The ruins bleak and sad it fain had saved 

Ere Vice's blasting steps did o'er them rove, — 

A virtue sweet, more potent than all other, 

An ever-glowing, fervent love of mother. 



158 BETWEEN WHILES 



ON A PRIEST'S GOLDEN JUBILEE 



THE first priest, Christ, for many years and long 
A hidden Hfe, obscure and lowly, led, 
Afar from scenes where fame and glory spread 
Their nets of pride, and hold in meshes strong 
E'en noble souls who move amid the throng. 
Nor flee the baleful light by honors shed ; 
And not till he was risen from the dead 
Did glory greet Him in the Easter song. 

"Another Christ," in very truth thou art, 

O Priest of fifty years ! Like His, thy days 

All hidden lie ; like His thy lowly heart 

In self-effacement shuns e'en fitting praise ; 

No transient worldly fame is meet for thee, 

But seraphs sing thy Golden Jubilee. 



BETWEEN WHILES 159 



STEMMING THE CURRENT 



So TEMPTING gleamed the river yesterday — 
The tide, half-flood, uprushing from the sea 
In currents swift, its wavelets leaping free — 
The while upon the grassy bank I lay 
Oppressed beneath the torrid sun's fierce ray, 
That, yielding to an impulse, speedily 
I doffed my raiment, cast myself with glee 
Upon the waters cool, and swam away. 

With lusty stroke I sped me with the stream 
A mile or more past dike-bound marshes wide 

Then turned — to labor long with toil supreme 
In buffeting that rapid-coursing tide. 

'Tis ever thus, on river or in life: 

To stem the current is the real strife. 



i6o BETWEEN WHILES 



JOHN BOYLE O'REILLY 



YES, rear a stately column to the sky, 
'Twill tell to later times that in our day 
Not all of chivalry had passed away ; 
But still there lived who honored purpose high. 
And would not willingly let wholly die 

The friend of humankind, whose songs for aye 
Shall noble souls incite to join the fray 
Where weaker brothers sound their battle cry. 

But rear the column for our sake, nor deem 
He needs a monument who still lives on 

In countless lives that glowed beneath his beam, 
And shared his glory as it brighter shone. 

His fame is shrined in all the hearts that bled 

When came the tidings : " Boyle O'Reilly's dead." 



BETWEEN WHILES l6] 



A REWARD 



WHAT talent God had given him withal 
He fostered and improved from day to 
day, 
Toiled oft through hours purloined from sleep 
and play, 
Resisted firm the swift-subduing thrall 
Of indolence, and heeded labor's call, 

Climbed slowly up the rugged weary way 
Towards heights illumed by glory's dazzling 
ray,- — 
And won at length a niche in Honor's hall. 

Then looked he to receive from friends held dear 
The grateful tribute of sweet sympathy, 

And joyed to think that his success would cheer 
Full many hearts he loved and prized. Ah, 
me ! 

Success changed friendship's smile to envy's sneer, 

And won him homilies on vanity. 



62 BETWEEN WHILES 



THE PRICE OF FAME 



WHO thinks to overtop the common crowd, 
To climb beyond them to a farther height, 
Whose scaling sets at naught their lesser might, 
To win the world's acclaim and plaudits loud 
For meritorious deeds and worth avowed, 

Yet hopes escape from jealousy and spite — 
Twin foes that fain his glory's growth would 
blight — 
With sanguineness undue is sure endowed. 

For envy base on merit e'er attends, 

Albeit masked and robed in Virtue's guise ; 

Full oft its darts are launched by faithless friends 
In honeyed words and hypocritic lies ; 

Whoe'er among his fellows wins a name 

Soon learns that Envy is the price of Fame. 



BETWEEN WHILES 163 



UNSHAKEN TRUST 



THE angry winds are howling fierce and loud, 
The storm-clouds meet in combat overhead, 
And darkness such as once o'er Egypt spread 
Now covers land and sea, a dismal shroud. 
On board the trembling bark an awe-struck crowd 
Await their doom — perchance a watery bed 
Far down amid the cruel ocean's dead ; 
And women weep and manly heads are bowed. 

Yet bravely bears the ship the frequent shock, 
Nor yields her course, though raging surges 
swell, 

But flees the beach and shuns the hidden rock, 
Despite the winds that shriek her ruin's knell. 

E'en thus, true friends of Christ may safely mock 
The fierce assaults and furious rage of Hell. 



1 64 BETWEEN WHILES 



THE PLANTING OF THE CROSS 



(1492) 



SUCCESS has crowned the hero's bold emprise : 
No more shall hopes and fears alternate 
sweep 
His mighty spirit, or disturb the deep 
Of his unfailing faith. At length his eyes 
Behold the land ; and while sweet visions rise 
Of fruitful harvests Christ therein shall reap, 
In ages still within Time's womb asleep, 
The Cross he plants beneath these new-found skies. 

Not yet to ripeness has that harvest grown 

Great Colon dreamt of in those days of old ; 

But year by year the seed is wider sown. 
And ever falls on softer, richer mold. 

Time yet shall see, as did Italia's son, 

The Cross he planted rule the world he won. 



BETWEEN WHILES 1 65 



ENVY 



MID all the passion-plants upspringing fast 
With lusty force from seeds perversely 
strown 
By Satan's hands, or haply by our own, 
Upon the heart's rich soil, none ever cast 
So baleful shadows, nor so quickly blast 

With noisome breath sweet blossoms fully 

blown — 
Such flowers as thrive in Charity's fair zone — 
As Envy foul, of passions base the last. 
Oh, pluck it from the garden of thy heart, 

Whatever specious guise at first it shows; 
Uproot it quickly, for thyself shall smart 

With pain incessant while unchecked it grows ; 
Nor peace, nor joy, nor love can flourish where 
The poison-ivy, Envy, taints the air. 



[66 BETWEEN WHILES 



THE DUTY OF PRAISE 



GRUDGE not thy friend the tribute sweet of 
praise 
When in thine eyes his work is worthy found ; 
Nor seek to hedge thy eulogy around 
With cautious word and quaHfying phrase, 
Through fictive fear ilkisive hopes to raise 

Of coming fame and years all honor-crowned ; 
Concede him as thyself a judgment sound, 
Nor dread to set his vanity ablaze. 

More blossoms droop from dearth of gentle dew 
Than weeds grow dank beneath excessive 
showers ; 
The fruits that torrid sunshine blights are few 

To those that yield them to the hoar-frost's 
powers ; 
For every silly head by plaudits turned, 
There pine a hundred hearts for praise well-earned. 



BETWEEN WHILES 167 



STEADFASTNESS 



WASTE not the present hour in vain regret 
For prizes forfeited in days gone by, 
It naught avails for fair winds lost to sigh, 
Or mourn the glow of suns forever set; 
Entomb thy past, bid Memory forget 

The fixed and changeless years that rearward 

lie; 
Charge but thy soul with faith and purpose high, 
And life shall spare thee of its treasures yet. 

The now is thine, a goodly battlefield 

Whereon all past defeats redeemed may be ; 

Be stout of heart, and vanquished foes will yield 
Thy valiant arm a path to victory ; 

Tis cowards droop and moan, ** It might have 
been" — 

" It yet shall be," the steadfast cry, and win ! 



1 68 BETWEEN WHILES 



AN UNCHANGING PROBLEM 



OUR wider knowledge proves the ancient sage 
Whose lore the world revered in eras gone, 
A purblind novice striving in the dawn 
Of learning's fuller day to spell a page 
Now read of schoolboys : yet each later age, 
Old problems solving, others still must con : 
Life's surface-puzzles change as years roll on. 
And questions new successive times engage. 

One problem only constant is, the same 
In this our day as when on Sinai's hill 

Jehovah spake athwart the lightning's flame — 
How live my life? Its one solution still: 

Heed not the babble of men's praise or blame, 
But love thy God and do His sacred will. 



BETWEEN- WHILES 169 



HOPE 



FAITH-BORN is hope, and in this transient Hfe 
While faith endures hope cannot wholly die ; 
The soul that sees no rift in darkest sky, 
That looks not on to triumph in the strife. 
Though now in straits with deadly danger rife, 
Has lost belief in Him who rules on high. 
And where her faith once glowed, dead ashes 
lie: 
Hope's cable ne'er is cut, save when the knife 
Is plied by faith abandoned. None that see 
With eyes of faith the Mother and the Son 
Indulgent both receive the sinner's plaint, 

The while he pardon craves on bended knee, 
Can doubt that grace may change, e'er life 
be done, 
The wretch most guilty into glorious saint. 



17 o BETWEEN WHILES 



JUDGE NOT 



BE NOT alert to sound the cry of shame 
Shouldst thou behold a brother falling low. 
His battle's ebb thou seest; but its flow — 
The brave repulse that heroes' praise might claim 
Of banded foes who fierce against him came, 

His prowess long sustained, his yielding 

slow — 
Till this thou knowest, as thou canst not know, 
Haste not to brand with obloquy his fame. 

"Judge not," hath said the Sovereign Judge of all, 
Whose eye alone not purblind is nor dim, — 

Perchance a swifter than thy brother's fall 

Hadst thou received from those who van- 
quished him; 

He coped, it may be, with unequal odds, — 

Be thine to pity ; but to judge him, God's. 



BETWEEN WHILES i?! 



ENDURING FAME 



THE truest glory ever comes unsought : 
Fame scorns the slave who bows him at her 

shrine 
And quaffs the world's applause like sparkling 
wine, 
But dowers him, the man whose single thought 
Is duty to be done, whose deeds are wrought 
In harmony with God's own plan divine, 
Who works His will, still hewing to the line, 
For others' praise or censure caring naught. 

Most famed of men is still the humble saint 

Who recked in life nor Fortune's smile nor 
frown, 
Alike to him were plaudits loud or faint: 

Now rings throughout the world his fair re- 
nown ; 
The Church approving, tells his praises o'er. 
And shrines him on her altars evermore. 



172 BETWEEN WHILES 



THE LEGEND OF BROTHER EUGENE 



A BRAVE young monk was Brother Eugene — 
He dwelt in the Convent of Breau — 
Head-gardener he, and right .well, I ween, 
Did his plants and his flowers grow. 
Light-hearted he worked through the summer day 
And sang, as he toiled, some sacred lay. 

Now, the Father of Evil, the chronicles tell. 

Detested the monks of Breau, 
For the frequent sound of their convent bell 

Was heard by his legions below, 
And every stroke seemed to chant with pride 
The glory of God, Whom they had defied. 

So Satan commissioned a score or so 
Of his spirits most cunning and deep 

To hold strict watch o'er these monks of Breau, 
While at prayer, or at work, or in sleep ; 

And to strive, by the arts they knew so well. 

To ensnare recruits for the service of hell. 



BETWEEN WHILES 173 

The watch was set and the snares were laid 

For each of the monks of Breau, 
And a daily report of their progress made 

By his agents to Satan below ; 
From which reports the Arch-Plotter knew 
His successes were slight ones, and very few. 

Undaunted by failure, he bade his band 

Persevere and be vigilant still, 
Bade them seek for chances on every hand, 

Their enemies' souls to kill ; 
Assiiring them all that persistence would win 
The fall of the monks into deadly sin. 

But as time wore on and there came no news 

Of a notable victory won. 
His imps he began to upbraid and abuse 

For leaving their duties undone ; 
And he bade them thereafter remain below. 
He, himself, would attend to the monks of Breau. 

He brought to the task all the powers for ill 

Of a genius distorted by sin. 
He worked with the ardent, insatiate will 

Of a conqueror fighting to win. 
The result of it all : O'er each brother's life, 
S\yept a storm of temptations and trials and strife. 



174 BETWEEN WHILES 

With most, the struggles were sharp and brief, — 
They were clad in the armor of prayer ; 

And the devil's schemes always come to grief 
With the few who that armor wear : 

But all were not victors, for, sooth to tell. 

In much, or in little, full many fell. 

Success only whetted the fiend's desire 

For victories still more complete, 
And wild was his rage and fierce his ire 

'Gainst those whom he could not defeat. 
But most furious his anger, and bitter his spleen 
'Gainst our joyous young gardener, Brother 
Eugene. 

For Eugene had been tempted again and again. 

But never an inch did he yield ; 
He scorned all the wiles of the demon, and then 

His scorning was never concealed ; 
And he slept and prayed, and worked and sang 
With a joy that caused Satan full many a pang. 

Yet Satan, though vanquished day after day, 

Would never his hopes forego 
Of winning at last, and of working his way 

With this champion monk of Breau. 
So at last all the rest he left calm and serene. 
To vent his full rage upon Brother Eugene. 



BETWEEN WHILES 175 

Then came trying times for our virtuous youth, — 
Through the livelong day and night 

Temptations assailed him, and bravely, in truth, 
Did he bear the fierce brunt of the fight ; 

For in sunshine or gloom, when the strife was 
done, 

All the angels rejoiced that Eugene had won. 

At length upon Satan there dawned the thought 

Of entirely changing his plan ; 
Since the Brother with spirits so valiantly fought, 

He would strive with him next as a niaji; 
And once more endeavor to overthrow 
This obstinate, gardening monk of Breau. 

Eugene was called from his work next day 

By the porter, Brother St. John, 
And informed that a traveler, old and gray, 

With features chastened and wan 
(Who came, he said, from the village of Dean), 
Had craved permission to see him, Eugene. 

Now Dean was our Brother's native place, 
He had lived there as child and as boy. 

And the prospect of seeing some well-known face 
Was a source of quite natural joy ; 

But one glance at the stranger's thoughtful mien 

Assured him 'twas one he had never seen. 



176 BETWEEN WHILES 

Abundant tidings the traveler brought 

Of Dean and its villagers all ; 
And one might have fancied he eagerly sought 

The familiar scenes to recall, 
In order to fill the monk with regret 
For the choice that bade him the world forget. 

After dwelling at length on the pleasant theme 
Of the friends whom Eugene used to know, 

It was quite in the order of things, it would seem, 
To speak of the life at Bfeau. 

To the traveler's questions the monk replied, — 

And the traveler shook his head and sighed. 

"What fools, these monks," he exclaimed at last, 

As if more in pity than scorn — 
" So they think they can alter a judgment passed 

Long ages before they were born." 
Eugene was astounded, and could not refrain 
From begging the stranger his words to explain. 

"Explain," he rejoined, ''why, here j'^// are, 
In life's springtime of joy and delight. 

The design of your being resolved to mar, 
Your existence contented to blight. 

Why shun all the pleasures and bliss of earth?" 

"To win," said Eugene, '* a prize of more worth." 



BETWEEN WHILES 177 

*'But whether that prize will be yours or not," 
Said the stranger, '*is written now; 

No acts of yours can erase or blot 
The seal of fate from your brow. 

God sees you in heaven, or sees you in hell ; 

Where he sees you, you'll go, live you ill or well. 

"Then act like a man: since the future's un- 
known, 

Be happy now while you may ; 
The joys of the present, at least, make your own ; 

Have a good time in this world, to-day. 
For, be monk or gallant, be serene or be vexed, 
You can never alter your lot in the next." 

The latter part of this wily discourse 

Was quite lost upon Brother Eugene; 

He was begging God's light and sustaining force 
Through his Mother, the Virgin-Queen. 

And she heard and granted his fervent prayer — 

He discerned the demon and saw the snare. 

''And so," said Eugene, " 'tis at length made clear 
Your design in this visit to Breau. 

You would have me leave it ; but really, I fear, 
I cannot consent to go. 

And pray, may 1 ask, do I not guess well, 

In thinking your Highness the Prince of Hell?" 



178 BETWEEN WHILES 

**And if you are right," was the stranger's reply, 
'*My logic is none the less sound." 

" Quite true," said Eugene, " and I doubt whether I 
Can answer such logic profound. 

Permit me, however, to throw some more light 

On a few of your points which I think not just right. 

"To begin with, you take it for granted, I see, 
That my life here is joyless and bleak ; 

On this point, at least, you will surely agree 
That / am best able to speak : 

And with all due respect, I can only reply 

That your statement is wholly and simply a lie. 

" Then you say that my fate was decreed long ago. 
That my lot I can ne'er hope to change ; 

Now, supposing all this to be even so, 
I confess that it strikes me as strange 

That you work so hard men's souls to gain — 

If your logic is sound, then your work must be 
vain. 

"That God sees my future I know to be true. 

He sees that I'll live well or ill ; 
Which means that He sees what hereafter I'll do 

Of my own unrestrained free will : 
But that God's foreknowledge coerces my act, 
Neither I, nor yourself, believe to be fact. 



BETWEEN WHILES 179 

"Once grant that my fate depends not on me, 
And your folly becomes most plain ; 

If I'm destined for heaven, 'tis clear as can be, 
That your tempting will ever prove vain ; 

If to hell I'm foredoomed, you are surely an ass 

To work with such zeal for what must come to 
pass. 

** But of this, enough ; I have work to do, 

And need only say ere I go, 
As the final result of this interview, 

That I purpose remaining at Breau." 
So saying, Eugene bade the stranger farewell, 
And the devil, defeated, returned to hell. 



l8o BETWEEN WHILES 



IN OTHER DAYS AND NOW 



(alumni poem, read at ST. JOSEPH'S COLLEGE, N. B., JUNE 21, 1895) 



L 



IKE fragrance borne by summer winds from 

vales where roses blow, 
Like visions seen in dreamland fair where lights 

and colors glow, 
Like echoes soft of vesper song or chime of distant 

bell, 
Are thoughts that play round bygone years when 

Memory wields her spell. 
The past though fled is never dead to him whose 

sunny youth 
Shone bright with hope and lofty aims and noble 

love of truth ; 
Though life may wear a sterner mien as swift the 

years speed by. 
The magic haze of other days ne'er fades from out 

his sky. 

Those other days of long ago ! Ah, sad indeed his 

lot 
For whom they hold no witching charm, no spell 

with sweetness fraught, 



BETWEEN WHILES l8l 

Whose soul doth not exult with joy, whose pulses 

do not thrill 
As forms and scenes of life's glad spring his field 

of vision fill ! 
Not ours the heart to play the part of cynic cold 

and set, 
Whose sordid prime marks youth recede without 

one fond regret; 
We rather fling aside Time's veil and willingly 

allow 
The golden rays of other days to beam upon us 

now. 



So let the decades backwards fly, the present fade 

from view, 
The hallowed past would fain to-night our hearts 

with youth renew. 
'Tis done. Ten, twenty years roll back like waves 

from ocean's shore ; 
Grave manhood's cares go with them — and we're 

college boys once more. 
Again we feel our senses reel with very joy of life. 
Again with bounding health and verve our supple 

frames are rife, 
Again we launch our buoyant bark, and Hope 

peers o'er the prow, 
A pilot fair to do and dare in other days as now. 



1 82 BETWEEN WHILES 

The world holds naught of dread for us ; 'tis but a 

tourney plain 
Whereon, our squirehood over, we shall tilt and 

not in vain. 
We shadow forth the gallant joust, nor doth a 

doubt arise 
That lances such as we shall wield may fail to win 

the prize. 
E'en now we hear the ringing cheer that greets 

our valor proved, 
We feel the thrill of triumph proud by which the 

victor's moved ; 
And what is this? A laurel wreath is twined about 

our brow, — 
Sweet siren lays of other days ; there's no such 

music now. 



Yet who would lose the memory of those years all 

free from care, 
When Fancy's nimble fingers built our castles in 

the air, 
When dreams of future glory gave new zest to 

present joy. 
And mild contentment steeped our souls in bliss 

without alloy? 



BETWEEN WHILES 183 

What though no crown of fair renown hath sought 
us in our prime, 

What though the Hill of Fame hath proved a toil- 
some steep to climb ; 

Still do our castles and our dreams deserve, not 
blame, but praise, — 

They glorified life's placid tide throughout those 
other days. 



But what of Alma Mater in the decades that have 

flown? 
Looks she as in the vanished days? Or has she 

haply grown 
E'en faster than her elder sons, her "boys" of 

auld lang syne, 
Whose presence glads her heart to-night like 

draught of bodied wine? 
'Tis even so ; and while we glow with pride in her 

success, 
In half-regretful mood we muse upon her olden 

dress : 
Yon red-brown wooden structure there upon the 

hilltop's brow, 
Knew all our ways in other days and claims re- 
membrance now 



1 84 BETWEEN WHILES 

How vividly 'tis outlined 'gainst the shadows of 

the past, 
That oldtime College home wherein our mental 

molds were cast. 
The low-browed rooms, the stinted space, the worn, 

uneven floor. 
The plain rough desks whereon were carved initials 

by the score, 
The box-stoves quaint that made a feint of warm- 
ing chambers two, — 
One half the stove in either, and the heat all up the 

flue,— 
The stage we built as need arose on benches in 

the hall, — 
Such means and ways of other days does that old 

house recall. 



Yet could its roof give back the tones that echoed 
there of yore, 

Or could some Hogarth's brush the sights it wit- 
nessed once restore, 

What merry shouts and joyous scenes and song 
and earnest speech 

Would live again that now have passed beyond 
our memory's reach ! 



BETWEEN WHILES 185 

There's not a wall in room or hall but knows, could 
it but tell, 

Full many a reminiscence would repay our listen- 
ing well, — 

Of frolics planned and mischief wrought, of strife 
for College bays. 

Of duty done and glorious fun enjoyed in other 
days. 



Ah ! well, the law of progress long ago pro- 
nounced its doom, 

And the old brown building yonder for a grander 
one made room : 

St. Joseph's halls have multiplied, and comforts 
we knew not 

Ensure her younger sons to-day a far more pleas- 
ant lot. 

Be theirs the gain ; to us remain the thoughts of 
hardships past, 

Of hardships so transfigured now they look like 
joys at last. 

Tis thus with bygone trials: when bright Fancy 
round them plays, 

They but enhance the fond romance that gilds our 
other days. 



1 86 BETWEEN WHILES 

The scenes are changed, — what of the forms that 
figured once thereon? 

The old famiHar faces of our youth, where have 
they gone? 

The hundred merry comrades of the classroom 
and the field, 

The smaller band to whom our souls in friend- 
ship's bonds were sealed ? 

The kindly men who ruled us then with gentle 
hand if strong, 

Whose practice show the right the while their pre- 
cepts warned of wrong, 

Who opened wide for us the gates of science, let- 
ters, art, 

Yet bade us raise in other days to God our mind 
and heart? 



Alas, full many of the throng we'll see on earth no 

more : 
Their barks have shot Death's gulf across and 

reached its farther shore. 
Professors, classmates, bosom-friends — the ranks 

of each display 
Broad gaps that Time still widens as each lustre 

ebbs away. 



BETWEEN WHILES 187 

Remember you the kindly two whose voices oft- 
times rose 

In old songs like " I Know a Bank Whereon the 
Wild Thyme Blows"? 

Death, little loath, has claimed them both, and 
Alma Mater prays 

For Walsh and Blodgett, Dick and Joe, beloved 
in other days. 

And HE, the dearest of them all, the noble priest 

and true 
Who towered high, a king 'mongst men, at least 

to me and you, — 
With heart like woman's tender, with faith like 

prophet's strong — 
He too has passed beyond our ken and joined the 

silent throng. 
His lifework done, his laurels won, he closed his 

weary eyes, 
God's angel gently sealed them fast — and lo ! two 

peoples' cries 
Rang out in lamentation loud for Pere Le- 

febvre's decease : 
We sought his praise in other days ; God rest him 

now in peace. 



1 88 BETWEEN WHILES 

More Joshua than Moses he, 'twas given to his 

hand 
To lead Acadia, ere he died, within the promised 

land. 
To us, a lifetime father fond — the purest of his 

joys, 
To mark successive honors crown his old St. Jo- 
seph's boys. 
This comfort's left our hearts bereft : the College 

of his love 
Is guided now by one he prized all other men 

above ; 
Le roi est mort, our king of yore, but when his 

spirit saw 
His heir succeed, I know he smiled and murmured, 

Vive le Roy! 



Peace to our dead. Alumni now of Life's own train- 
ing school. 

Where we, as undergraduates, must still observe 
the rule. 

Ah, through Life's college each may pass with 
honor if he please, 

And win from God, its President, the crown of fair 
degrees. 



BETWEEN WHILES 



189 



Peace to our dead ! And ere 'tis sped, this present 
that is ours, 

Let each of us his lifework build, from corner- 
stone to towers. 

So shall we deck with garlands bright old Alma 
Mater's brow, 

And love to gaze on other days more fondly still 
than now. 



APR S 



1895 



